Twitter has basically been handed over to Mr. and Mrs. Erin Harding and total reprobates. But I repeat myself.
In all seriousness, Twitter’s platform is geared toward limited expression, which seems an ideal platform that’s just large enough for people to get out dumb ideas. It seems that smart thoughts require more than a few characters, but hostility-laced stupidity takes just a few lines.
Twitter has largely been handed over to the hordes of morons and the few conservatives who remain are like a Meghan McCain trying to fight off a pack of menopausal The View co-hosts supernaturally enraged by hot-flashes. Even the nicest guy on Earth, Justin Peters, had to eventually bounce from the platform last week after the Harding hecklers mob-hounded him.
As an Exhibit A in my lament for this dummy-parade, the trailer park of all media platforms, Twitter, I submit to you a tweet so stupid I almost rolled my eyes so far back I could actually see back when The Gospel Coalition still talked about the gospel. The tweet was so dumb it makes Kyle J. Howard sound like Thomas Sowell. If a tweet could be described as intellectually ugly, it would make Karen Swallow Prior look like someone other than Karen Swallow Prior. The tweet was so shallow it makes Lecrae’s last album sound like Kanye’s.
The perpetrator of this monstrosity of moronhood, this culprit of incoherence, this behemoth bereft of brains, this word salad of stupidity is Bradly Mason.
I know nothing about him other than his mother couldn’t spell Bradley and he claims to be a parishioner, carpenter, husband, and father (we pray that imbecility is not genetic, or that it at least skips a generation).
Reformation Charlotte, a polemics site which has been instrumental in lending a voice to the 20% or so disenfranchised and underprivileged members of First Baptist Church in Naples, Florida, who are being run out of church on a rail for caring about qualifications and character over skin color, made a tweet in regards to that travesty.
Mason then coughed up this idiocy from wherever within him flows a wellspring and fountainhead of functional retardation.
Reformation Charlotte pointed out that FBC Naples members were concerned Hayes supported Critical Race Theory (a divisive philosophy spawned by leftists in America’s law schools in the 1980s, who were themselves indoctrinated by the Frankfurt School of Cultural Marxism), Slave Reparations (PS: the last ex-slave died at an impressive 124 years of age in 1971), and his support for a Democrat politician who probably uses fetus blood for lipstick.
All of these, if actualized, would be very legitimate concerns for a Bible-believing Christian.
However, Bradly Mason thought it fitting to claim (as you can see above) that these concerns are racist.
RACIST! RACIST, I TELL YOU!
Sure, it’s in “race-neutral terms’ (in other words, it’s not about race unless it can be measured in whine-bags, which is the official unit of measurement for microaggressions. Sure, you can’t see the racism, hear the racism, smell the racism, taste the racism, but somewhere…under all that utter lack of attention on race, there’s racism. There’s probably like 5 or 6 whole whine-bags of micro-aggressed racism in there somewhere.
The “race-neutral terms” are probably indications of racism in and of themselves, after all. Only a racist wouldn’t bring up race, right? If men like Bradly Mason bathe in white guilt and wash their face with their own leftist tears, then not bringing up race must really make you racist.
You know, secretly and stuff.
Mason’s thought goes like this…
Care about Marxist ideologies? Pffft…racist.
Care about wealth redistribution, theft, and 8th Commandment violations? Pffft…racist.
Care about Democrats turning dead babies into hood emblems for their Prius? Pffft…racist.
Bradly Mason’s thoughts don’t deserve respect. They deserve mockery. They deserve to be made fun of. These are not thoughts any human brain, capable of driving and literacy and basic civil functionality or the ability to tweet could organically derive; these had to have been thoughts assigned to him by a programmer. No sentient creature could have such dumb thoughts and be capable of carpentry…or teeth-brushing…or marriage…or fatherhood.
If someone is trying to argue with you by merely calling you racist, they’re not trying to argue with you. They’re just trying to insult you. I pray that I have laid insult in this post in a far more stinging and intellectually impressive way than simply flinging about the charge of “racist!” without an ounce of reason or gram of explanation.
If you’re curious about the title of this post, a NPC is a Non-Player Character. The term is one from video games, used to describe a character that is controlled by the computer or game console rather than by another player. An NPC pushes the game’s plot forward by saying scripted lines or pointing in a particular direction on cue. They’re only programmed to say or do certain things to push the game along.
Men like Bradly Mason are non-player characters. It doesn’t really matter what is happening to the people at FBC Naples. He will shout racist! It does not matter what the facts are, he will shout racist! To those like Bradly Mason, who is just one NPC out of millions on Twitter, every disagreement is caused by a racist who doesn’t know they’re a racist and doesn’t sound racist which means that they’re a secret racist and so you know they’re racist and an especially subversive racist because they won’t admit they’re racist.
There is a chorus of NPCs on Twitter that don’t deserve to be listened to. They do not have original thoughts. They are programmed bots. They are drones. They are lemmings. Their sentience is questionable and their Imago Dei hangs on by a bare strand of God’s breath. Their thinking is futile. Their mouths are open graves. Their words are vain.
Pay no attention to men like this. These men are “randos,” just random game avatars who repeat words and phrases whenever someone stands within close enough proximity to converse. Consider their thoughts no more seriously than you would consider whispers in the wind.
