Hello darlings. It has come to my attention that my satire is not (ha ha ha) always appreciated or understood. What is it about this simple-minded Internet generation that everything has to be true, and everything is taken at face value? There doesn’t NEED to be a sarcasm font, you just have to actually read with discernment and in context. Listen to what the writer says.
I suppose there’s always going to be the overly literal minds out there with no imagination — the same folks that think that Alice Cooper is a devil worshiping sadist, or that Marilyn Manson is the Anti-Christ and had his bottom ribs removed in order to be able to perform auto-fellatio.
So, not to be patronizing, condescending, or otherwise couche-tardy, (PLEASE PUT ON YOUR IRONY GLASSES NOW) the following is satire, darlings. Dripping with irony (and no, irony is not coincidence. Irony is not pathos. Irony is when you say one thing so strongly and heavy-handedly when you clearly and obviously mean the other. ) And yes, darlings, the following tale is very heavy-handed and ham-fisted, I know. Intentionally so.
I wonder what these 21st century simpletons would have made of Jonathan Swift? Would they have lambasted him on his blog for suggesting the Irish solve both their hunger and overpopulation problems by eating their children? Look out, Jon, here come the Trolls.
Without further rantage (it’s a word now, darlings, trust me) here is my tale of scapegoating.
(Oh, a tad more ado I’m afraid. I did a weird thing this week, and it bears explanation. The first post I saw was actually Doug’s and he had a picture of a goat. I thought THAT was the picture. Turns out it wasn’t, it’s the Chopsticks picture by Marie Gail Stratford. However, given the innocent, but still racially motivated message on the chopsticks paper, I maintain that my story relates to both. Thanks MG and Doug.)
If you want to read more Friday Fictioneers (100 words based on a photo prompt, hosted by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields) click click on the little blue frog one time, click click on the little blue frog
Leah and her partner stared at the stack of applications and sighed.
“This is impossible,” Setsuko moaned. “Affirmative action is bullshit. Look at this one. He’d be perfect for the job.”
“Except he’s black, Suko darling. You really want the White Rights groups crying racism?”
“I know, I know. What about this one? Joe Marsh. Looks promising.”
Leah took a closer look. “Joe. Short for Josephine, love. We’ve already got too many women on payroll.”
“I’ve got it!” Setsuko squealed with triumph. “White male, mid-thirties, comes from an affluent family… shit!”
“He’s gay,” Suko sighed.
Leah seethed with resentment. “Fucking Straight Agenda!”