Nut Cancer by Proxy
That is what I wish on the "douchebags who can't handle the word 'douchebag,'" who have effectively silenced one of the most engaging, literate, trouser-filling voices on teh Intarweb.
Yes, Bobby Bracelet has been Dooced. Or, more precisely, his blog has been Dooced by balding, grim-faced Centurions guarding their self-appointed Gate of Appropriateness.
In the short time I've known Bob, I have come to regard his Totally Gay Online Diary musings as the cyber equivalent of "Howl," epic and grand in scope, a depot of universal poignancy and a dependable space where all manner of douchebaggery was hunted and exposed. We are all poorer today, less our true selves and more like the retarded kids Bob always makes fun of. Yes, I can say "retarded." I can also say "spaz" and "hyper." And yes, the ultra-sensitive culture of ours will rise up in horror at my use of such words and they will further excise voices from the marketplace of ideas because they don't CONFORM or are not synergetic with the idea that we can NEVER hurt anybody's feelings in the world, because if you do that, they will grow up to be a bad person, a MURDERER maybe, because we have invalidated their opinion, we have not respected their word, we have not coddled them to our collective breasts and told them it's okay if they can't fucking add or subtract, so instead we tell them they have VALUE, the idea being that only though NICENESS and soft, velvety caress can we build productive members of society, which means we are simply LYING to them, by not telling them they are WRONG or stupid or hygenically-deficient, but by ENCOURAGING them to continue along their oblivious path so they can, one day, grow up to be Bob's asshole fucking bosses.