Tag: SJW

“If You Were An Award, My Love”
by Juan Tabo and S. Harris

If you were an award, my love, then you would be a Hugo™. You’d be a big one, five feet, ten inches, the same height as human-you and twice the height of Regular Size John Scalzi, You’d be made of brass, and wood and plastic, and difficult to take on an airplane as carry on due to enhanced security precautions. Your eyes wouldn’t exist, because you were a rocket, stupid.

If you were a Hugo®, then I would become Taller, Stronger John Scalzi so that I could spend all my time with you. I’d bring you raw chickens and live goats, if you were into that kind of thing.  I’d make my bed right under the trophy case, in the basement where my wife lets me sleep. When I couldn’t sleep, I’d sing you lullabies.

If I sang you lullabies, I’d soon notice how you were still a statue. You’d just sit there, because you were still a statue. When you thought I was asleep, you’d still be a statue, and I would still be Taller, Stronger, John Scalzi.

If I were still Taller, Stronger John Scalzi, I would rage against Puppies, Sad and Rabid, and my friends the League of Social Justice Warriors would rally to fund new research into defeating Puppies. Money would flood into the World Con. Biologists would try to figure out how to give rabbits jaws with big sharp teeth. Then I would know that I lived in a world of magic where anything was possible and a story with no fantasy and no science and very little fiction could be nominated for a Hugo©.

If we lived in a world of magic where anything was possible and a story with no fantasy and no science and very little fiction could be nominated for a Hugo™ then you would be an award, my love. You’d stand for everything progressive and PETA© and transgender and carbon-neutral and GMO/peanut free and latina and pro-Palestine and LGBT friendly and you’d miss the Soviet Union in a melancholy kind of way. Your Social Just-Us Warrior supporters would intimidate your foes effortlessly through coordinated campaigns of doxxing and public hateshaming. Whereas you—fragile, lovely, human you—must rely on threats and intimidation and troll-like slow-writing George R. R. Martin.

A Hugo©, even a large one, would never have to end up in the hands of John C. Wright or Jim Butcher or Steve Rzasa or Vox Day because they are insufficiently progressive, and are likely soaked in gin and malice.  A Hugo®, my love, would eschew gin and malice and instead be soaked in Grand Marnier® and love©.  A Hugo™ would bare rocket engine and liberal pedigree and they would cower. They’d hide in the Internet instead of crashing our party. They’d grasp each other for comfort and shout “Remember Heinlein and Campbell” instead of seizing the ballot and not letting anyone at all but the Puppies vote for the nominations and would then vote again in a completely democratic process on the nominated works as we slipped in the pools of our aggregated tears.

If you were an award, my love, I’d teach you the scents of those men. I’d lead a large herd of rabbits to them quietly, oh so quietly. They’d laugh, and probably not be scared since they are feelbad hurtspeak people. Your nostrils would flare as you inhaled the night and then, with the suddenness of prey, you’d run and cry. I’d cry, too.

If I cried, cried, cried, I’d eventually feel shame. I’d promise to change the Hugo rules so no one could ever do something like that again through voting. I’d avert my eyes from the newspapers when they showed photographs of the Hugo nominees, just as they must avert their eyes from the newspapers that show my crying face. How reporters adore my face, the face of the writer with his half-written acceptance speech, tickets to Washington, green chiffon bridesmaid dress.  The writer who sits by the bedside of another writer who wrote about tribbles and is hurtbad because our insular community is not now sufficiently insular for my taste.

If you were an award, my love, then no one could take you, and if nothing could take you, then I would be externally validated as my persona requires. I would bloom into the most beautiful Socially Just Warrior Flower. I would stretch joyfully toward the left. I’d trust in your shiny brass and wood to keep you/me/us safe now and forever from the feelbad hurtspeech men, and the tally of the ballots and the internet, and the shuttering of my empty trophy case.
 
UPDATE: I just what can’t words wow just wow…. 

UPDATE 2: Yeah, we’re going to need a bigger harpoon.

This is how I am voting in the
Best Fan Writer category. Of course, I merely offer this information
regarding my individual ballot for no particular reason at all, and the
fact that I have done so should not be confused in any way, shape, or
form with a slate or a bloc vote, much less a direct order by the
Supreme Dark Lord of the Evil Legion of Evil to his 368 Vile Faceless
Minions or anyone else.

1. Jeffro Johnson
2. Dave Freer
3. Amanda S. Green
4. Cedar Sanderson
5. Laura J. Mixon

With regards to Mixon, I still don’t consider a professional writer with five novels published by Tor who also happens to be the current SFWA President’s wife to be anything remotely recognizable as a proper “Fan Writer”, but that ship sailed back when John Scalzi, Jim Hines, and Kameron Hurley waged their successful campaigns for it. No sense in fighting battles already lost.

The more relevant problem is that Best Related Work would be a more reasonable category for a single expose, and Deidre Saorse Moen’s expose of Marion Zimmer Bradley was a considerably more important work in that regard. That being said, I don’t regard the Hugo Awards as being the place to recognize investigative journalism, otherwise I would have nominated Saorse Moen’s stunning revelations about Marion Zimmer Bradley as a Best Related Work. But regardless, Mixon did publish a credible expose and she is a legitimate, if not necessarily compelling candidate.

Best Novel
Best Novella

Now, what is interesting is that the very SJW who is leading the charge to change the Hugo rules this year has also declared that personal dislike and ideological opposition is sufficient cause to vote No Award.

Best Fan Writer

Freer’s been an ass to me, and incoherent at length to pretty much everybody, so no rocket for him. Green and Sanderson seem to not like SJWs like me, so I’ll return the favor. I’m a bit reluctant to give Mixon the award for an expose. Johnson at least restricts himself to book reviews, so my ballot is Johnson and no award.

Note the name on the B.1.1. proposals: “Proposed by: Chris Gerrib, Catherine Faber and Steven desJardins”.  This quite clearly demonstrates that the impetus to change the rules is, as we expected, being driven by SJW ideology and feelbads about the wrong people being nominated. So it is more than a little ironic that Chris Gerrib and I will nevertheless be voting for the same individual in the Best Fan Writer category, as Johnson’s work is excellent, well-researched, and resolutely apolitical.

But Gerrib shows the fundamental difference between the SJW and the Puppy. I put Marko Kloos on the Rabid Puppy slate in the full knowledge that he hates me. I have repeatedly nominated Charles Stross for the Nebula Award in the past; you can look up the old NAR records and see that I was, in fact, one of the only members of SFWA championing his work back then. I openly declare China Mieville to be one of the three best living SF writers despite the fact that his politics and his economics border on the brain-damaged. I wouldn’t hesitate to nominate Johnny Con himself if he ever wrote a novel that was legitimately worthy of a nomination.

The SJWs don’t do that. They are ruled by their feelings, and the mere semblance of ideological distaste for them is sufficient to render a writer’s work without merit and unworthy of any award.

And that, my dear SJWs, is one of the two reasons why we don’t believe you when you preen and posture and proclaim the works of the right to be unworthy. Because every time the mask slips, we see that the real reason behind the various rationales being given is the writer’s disapproval of your noxious ideology.

The other reason, of course, is that we have working memories. We are able to compare what we believe to be meritorious to what you have previously prized. You expect us to believe that “Turncoat” is a bad short story while “If You Gave a Dinosaur a Cookie, My Love” is among the very best the genre has to offer. You expect us to accept that the insightful essays of Transhuman and Subhuman and the impeccable science of “The Hot Equations” are totally unworthy of an award that has gone to a ridiculous and factually incorrect blog post, Chicks Dig Time Lords, and a collection of online blog snark in recent years.

In short, we do not believe a word you say about literary quality. After all, you say a man is actually a woman, you say evil is actually good, so it is hardly surprising that you also tell us good SF is actually terrible while declaring dreadful Pink SF to be superlative.

SJWs always lie.