Kukuruyo who was nominated for a Hugo Award, is being libeled and harassed by the Morlocks.
Kukuruyo draws commissions (http://kukuruyo.com/contact) for $30+. If any of you need drawings of toon characters, it would be a nice way to show support for one of our own.
Here is the backstory:
“No one is targeting artists because of their politics”. That’s a line that I’ve heard a lot from the social justice circles every time an artist is censored, or is attacked so much that they self-censor. It’s a line I’ve read several times in the last week directed at me, when I have commented in social media about some new attack upon myself. I think my experiences over this last week are a clear example on how, yes, artists are being targeted because of their politics, everytime those politics diverge from the progressive ideology.
I’ve always been an artist who does adult content. My hentai creations have been placed on the internet for more than a decade, and I’ve never had any problems because of it. Yeah, sometimes I got a drawing banned from deviantart, but they were very sporadic things, and usually deserved; one every 2-3 years at most. No one ever wrote anything about what a horrible person I was for doing erotic fanarts and such.
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Dear Mr. Will,
I read in your recent column the following:
Donald Trump’s damage to the Republican Party, although already extensive, has barely begun. Republican quislings will multiply, slinking into support of the most anti-conservative presidential aspirant in their party’s history. These collaborationists will render themselves ineligible to participate in the party’s reconstruction.
There is no polite reply to give to a man who calls me, and all men like me, who have been rock-ribbed loyal Republican for decades, and who have donated time and treasure to support candidates of whom you approved, by such vile and unseemly names now that it your turn to support a candidate of whom the majority of our fellow GOP voters approve, but not the establishment, and not you.
Mr. Trump was not my first, nor my second, nor my third choice. However, his policy positions are not noticeably less conservative than those of anyone in the Bush clan, for example. Nor is he promoting or promising a radical transformation of America, as Obama, the person with whom quislings in the GOP establishment collaborated, at times with enthusiasm. Please note that this makes your denunciation of us as traitors and traducers an ironic hypocrisy on your part, sir.
Mr. Trump, in my opinion, has many negatives and weaknesses. His sole strength is that he will resist political correctness and resist the loathly reptiles of the press, a feat that the Republican establishment to date has not even attempted.
I am not a Trump supporter, but I will support him as the nominee because I am a supporter of the Republican Party, which, as you have so unambiguously revealed to us, you are not.
You are a member of that unnamed party which welcomes cooperation between Republican and Democrat elites to the detriment of their mutual victims and foes, the non-elite. You are a member of the Co-Dominion Uniparty, the party of collaboration.
You are the one, not I, who is not to be invited hereafter to participate in the party’s reconstruction. It needs reconstruction because and only because you sabotaged it and broke its spine.
You betrayed the party’s base to the Washington and Wall Street elite, and now you make a show of fettle over a populist whose sole controversial stance is his willingness to enforce existing immigration laws, and maintain national sovereignty.
You could have chosen other words, your mewling whelp. Now, when someone says, “I cannot in good conscience vote for Mr. Trump because I do not vote for the lesser of two evils” or who says, “I cannot in good conscience vote for Mr. Trump because I deem more dangerous to the Republic than Hillary” he is speaking his conscience, and I respect that. To such men I say: go your way with my good will, and vote as your conscience guides you. Our difference are a matter of a judgment call, not of logic, and in matters of judgment reasonable men can differ.
But when he says, as you did, “Your support of Trump makes you akin to Quisling, a Nazi collaborator” you have stepped over the brink, and I will not put out my hand to save you as you fall.
And fall you must, for you have broken faith with us.
The communists, socialists, and leftists generally show admirable party discipline, because they understand that, as a rule, subverting Western civilization is a process that requires many false steps, doubling back, setbacks, detours, and compromises.
So the Dems will, without blinking, overnight, go from being avid and public supporters, say, of Hitler or the KKK, but then the next day be avowed enemies of Hitler (the moment he breaks with Stalin) and avowed enemies of the KKK (who will now retroactively always have had been Republicans, somehow). Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia.
A mob cannot beat an organized legion. A conservative mob cannot beat a coherent Democrat machine.
Is there is single Bernie voter, even one, who quit the Dem party because Hillary will win the nomination? Is there even one Bernie voter who would not drive a hundred miles in a hailstorm and crawl over broken glass to cast his ballot for Hillary?
The answer is, no, none, not one.
The Bernie voter might think that the Zweihander of Bernie is a better blade than the crooked scimitar of Hillary wherewith to savage and plunder their deadly foes, the American people, but doubt not that savaging the plundering their foes is the sole purpose and delight.
They will close ranks.
Why won’t we?
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Whatever political differences of opinion I may have with Mr. George R.R. Martin, I must rally to his defense when he is criticized unfairly.
Here is the opening paragraph of an opinion piece by one Douglas Wilson:
So what is objectionable about Game of Thrones?
In posing the question, please note that I am assuming that something is objectionable. So let me count the ways. If we are talking about the books, the prose is klonkingly pedestrian—although in fairness it must be said that George R.R. Martin, author of the internationally best-selling series A Song of Ice and Fire, is a competent pedestrian, staying largely on the sidewalk. If we are talking about the HBO treatment of Martin’s world of Westeros (Game of Thrones, for which Martin serves as co-executive producer), you could sum it up, as one critic did, by noting the emphasis on a stylized violence there. You might even call it a ritualized or liturgical violence, of the kind that tries to cast out demons cathartically, but which only succeeds in summoning a bunch of them instead.
Now please note, even in this one paragraph, that a man who pens the line “You might even call it liturgical violence, of the kind that tries to cast out demons cathartically, but which only succeeds in summoning a bunch of them instead” criticize a writer of superior talent for his craftsmanship with words.
Just the contrast between the faux-erudite word like ‘cathartically’ and the drab word ‘bunch’ sets one teeth on edge. That the statement is also false — the violence in the tale is grim and realistic and meant to be so, not cathartic — makes one wonder if Mr. Wilson has ever been cautioned not to use words whose meaning eludes his grasp.
The prose in GAME OF THRONES is hardly pedestrian. I remember being not just impressed, but awed, at how adroitly, and with what apt words, the opening scene in the prologue of the first book was penned.
In a lesser writers hands, it would have been a trite scene where a redshirt is killed just to show how the monsters work.
In Mr. Martin’s skilled hands, the scene introduces a three-dimensional character with loves and hates and hopes and fears, set against the snowy background of an eerie, unearthly world where the seasons come and go with no regular cycle, and in less than the space of a paragraph hooks the readers’ interest and sympathy (I, at least, felt sorry for the guy). Mr. Martin then introduces the frozen and horrifying terror of the wintery Others, against whom his blade is futile.
And that is just the opening: an entire world introduced, the mood established, and the main overarching conflict in the background, of which the succession wars in the foreground are a striking contrast.
Likewise, here, one paragraph into Mr. Wilson’s critique, we have already established that he is tone deaf to the prose of others, awkward and elliptical himself, with word choices that are cliched (“let me count the ways”) clumsy (“liturgical violence” is as disjointed a word-pair as “pumpkin electric”) and inaccurate (“cathartic” means a psychological purgative) but also leaden (“bunch of demons” — do fallen angels come in bunches, like bananas, or in hosts, choirs, or aerie legions?).
Is the rest of Mr. Wilson’s column worth reading? That each reader for himself must determine: time pressed, and I say no more about it for well or ill, save this: He makes some valid points, and I salute anyone who analyzes the flaws in a work from a Christian perspective. The nihilism in Song of Ice and Fire is the main barrier to my own enjoyment of the work.
But to call Mr. Martin’s masterful prose pedestrian? Not so. I respectfully but sharply disagree. Mr. Martin wields a pen like a scalpel and creates precisely the intended effect in the reader’s soul.
Mr. George R.R. Martin here (http://grrm.livejournal.com/485124.html) has taken the time out of his busy writing schedule to rebut my comment where I rebuked him for characterizing the Sad Puppies reading list of last year as ‘right-wing’ and ‘weak’, a statement published in the Guardian newspaper.
My reply, humbly enough, was that my work was unweak enough to have sold at least one example to him. He responds by chiding me for being insufficiently humble: as if making a sale to George R.R. Martin were not indeed a matter for pride.
He and I (or so I thought) had an agreement to smooth over our puppy-related sadness.
In the spirit of that agreement, I plead nolo contendere to his allegations, in the hope that if I say nothing but this in reply, he will return to his writing, and tell me and his other fans the final fate of Westeros.
The years fly like autumn leaves, and life too short for such fare. Winter is coming.