No Room for Me
And mind you, there were many people who saw that installation, wrote on it, stared at it, congregated around it. Many faculty members. Obviously, it was all organized by faculty members to begin with. And not a single person was bothered by the hammer and sickle. OK, students are young and ignorant. What about professors? What’s their excuse?
There is no side here for me to pick. I despise the buggers who write racist crap and post it on their colleagues’ doors. But for some maddening reason, those who oppose them have so many impotent, vapid, self-congratulating idiots among them that their whole side starts to stink, as well. It’s not just today, of course. It’s always, always, always like that. If I go to a meeting against racism, somebody will start saying crap against immigrants sooner or later. Feminist clubs do nothing but quote Cosmo-level mantras at me. And so on. In the end, there is no joy in it for me, no excitement, just wariness and the thin excuse that their opponents are even worse.