The other day I happened upon a story which demonstrates the decay rotting out life in the Twin Cities. Normally it would be impossible to make up stories like this, but these are not normal times.
The image accompanying this blog reveals that in the St. Paul suburb of St Anthony a family was celebrating the Christmas season with a lighted display in its front yard when it received an unsigned letter from a “neighbor” who objected to the public display of holiday cheer.
It’s a case of the same old victimology evident across our culture, whether it be with race issues, gender issues, feminist issues–hell, any “woke” cause. This story just moves the narrative to a discouragingly new low. Because some “neighbors” don’t celebrate Christmas or can’t afford to light up their front yards during these “unprecedented times,” the world should be suffocated in winter’s dark gloom. The really discouraging part of the story is that “Residents agree that the sentiment has merit.”
Who’s sentiment? Might it be the sentiment of the “reporter” writing the story, or did genuine neighbors express it? And what might that sentiment be? Is it that “unprecedented times” justify an entirely new unneighborliness? Or is it that there should be a uniform sameness to all of life? With the latter in mind, my son wrote: “throw away all of your clothes. We will receive government-issued gray clothing so we don’t stand out among our neighbors.”
While the “neighbor” and those who share the “neighbor’s” sentiment are wrapped smugly in their advanced sense of virtue, their righteousness is threadbare.
They are warm and comfy tucked away in their suburban homes, yet across the Twin Cities, there are people living in tents or under bridges. To demonstrate honest wokeness, why don’t they invite the homeless into their luxury? Or, better yet, to be really woke, they should bulldoze their homes and move into tents. But that won’t solve the problem because some tents are more colorful than others, some are larger than others, some have better views of the surrounding landscape. The madness quite naturally multiplies. Get rid of our cars, don’t mow our yards, cut down our trees if we have more of them than our neighbors do. Where does it all end?
In the insane asylum! But even there some will be the patients and some must be the doctors, the janitors, the cooks. Equality, you see, is a phantom.