Read Online Not Cool: The Hipster Elite and Their War on You by Greg Gutfeld - Free Book Online
Authors: Greg Gutfeld
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in a contract year.
My point: As nonreligious as I may seem, even I know that as our culture wanders further from a desire for universal truth, we find ourselves slogging through an amoral outhouse, following false gods because we’ve mistaken their cool for character. So, by all means, laugh at the uncool who make things work, and champion those who traffic in self-absorption masked as selflessness. It might make you cooler, but it won’t make the world better. And if there’s anything we’ve learned, you can’t get any more uncool than God. In the high school that is America, God is, like, such a nerd.
What a silly, uncool idea that is. I get atheism. But that’s not what gets me. There are plenty of atheists who find better uses of their time than denigrating the religious. My targets are those who trash religion to elevate their coolness. For them, bragging that they’re a “lapsed Catholic” in order to nervously score cool points in a public setting just shows me how desperate they are for approval. (I’ve witnessed this more times than I can remember—i.e., at least three times.) The only thing you’re “lapsed” in is your ability to discern a level of interest in your stupid, predictable asides about how dumb your religious family is. You’ve “lapsed” in an ability to put your family before feeling cool.
Fact is, the cool, who are almost entirely liberal by default, are also antireligious to a fault. You cannot be religious and cool. According to the purveyors of cool, God cannot be cool because He replaces badass, existential, beret-wearing, clove-smoking nihilism. And religion competes with the artificial charity of government,which exists to support you in your existentialism. And so liberals, by intent or by accident, have replaced God with government. President Obama is now their supernatural being—a spiritual leader who can do better than simply turn water into wine. He can make trillions of dollars disappear. Then, with a wave of his hand, he can just print more money! The loaves and fishes were amateur hour by comparison.
But you know what else is uncool about church? It’s boring. It’s repetitive. It’s solemn. It’s like a Charlie Rose interview. I hate it. Even more, no matter what charitable efforts you perform, if you’re part of a real church, you can never brag about it (against my nature). There are no special buttons or ribbons. On the other hand, if charity is done as a stand-alone, detached from religion, that’s cool. You always brag about it. I’m beginning to think cool has become a religion for those who find the organized practice so difficult to absorb. I don’t blame them: Religion runs counter to my own internal logic. But my skepticism does not cloud my analysis that going to church might be something slightly more positive than ridiculing those who do. God may not exist, but at least I realize that those who believe in Him (or Her) are often nicer than the people who seek approval through ridicule of faith. It’s no longer about believing in God or not—it’s about having people kneel before you. You’re the false god, and your only commandment is that people like you. And, possibly, find it kind of sexy too, ya know?
TREATING CRAZIES LIKE DAISIES
I know crazy people. I grew up in California. I’ve seen them up close. And it’s never romantic; it’s never pretty; it’s just scary. I once had a girlfriend who worked at Napa State Hospital (or was a patient there—it’s all pretty hazy), the asylum where the Cramps once played. (Look it up—it’s pretty wonderful.) The way she described it was about as romantic as an ice-cold bedpan, which was how she described our relationship, alas. Back on topic, from afar, the insane are often idealized to a point of sacrificing one’s own safety. “Wow, they are such kooky fun.” But would you let one cook for you?
Living in Berkeley, I encountered my share of crazies. They were treated benevolently by
My point: As nonreligious as I may seem, even I know that as our culture wanders further from a desire for universal truth, we find ourselves slogging through an amoral outhouse, following false gods because we’ve mistaken their cool for character. So, by all means, laugh at the uncool who make things work, and champion those who traffic in self-absorption masked as selflessness. It might make you cooler, but it won’t make the world better. And if there’s anything we’ve learned, you can’t get any more uncool than God. In the high school that is America, God is, like, such a nerd.
What a silly, uncool idea that is. I get atheism. But that’s not what gets me. There are plenty of atheists who find better uses of their time than denigrating the religious. My targets are those who trash religion to elevate their coolness. For them, bragging that they’re a “lapsed Catholic” in order to nervously score cool points in a public setting just shows me how desperate they are for approval. (I’ve witnessed this more times than I can remember—i.e., at least three times.) The only thing you’re “lapsed” in is your ability to discern a level of interest in your stupid, predictable asides about how dumb your religious family is. You’ve “lapsed” in an ability to put your family before feeling cool.
Fact is, the cool, who are almost entirely liberal by default, are also antireligious to a fault. You cannot be religious and cool. According to the purveyors of cool, God cannot be cool because He replaces badass, existential, beret-wearing, clove-smoking nihilism. And religion competes with the artificial charity of government,which exists to support you in your existentialism. And so liberals, by intent or by accident, have replaced God with government. President Obama is now their supernatural being—a spiritual leader who can do better than simply turn water into wine. He can make trillions of dollars disappear. Then, with a wave of his hand, he can just print more money! The loaves and fishes were amateur hour by comparison.
But you know what else is uncool about church? It’s boring. It’s repetitive. It’s solemn. It’s like a Charlie Rose interview. I hate it. Even more, no matter what charitable efforts you perform, if you’re part of a real church, you can never brag about it (against my nature). There are no special buttons or ribbons. On the other hand, if charity is done as a stand-alone, detached from religion, that’s cool. You always brag about it. I’m beginning to think cool has become a religion for those who find the organized practice so difficult to absorb. I don’t blame them: Religion runs counter to my own internal logic. But my skepticism does not cloud my analysis that going to church might be something slightly more positive than ridiculing those who do. God may not exist, but at least I realize that those who believe in Him (or Her) are often nicer than the people who seek approval through ridicule of faith. It’s no longer about believing in God or not—it’s about having people kneel before you. You’re the false god, and your only commandment is that people like you. And, possibly, find it kind of sexy too, ya know?
TREATING CRAZIES LIKE DAISIES
I know crazy people. I grew up in California. I’ve seen them up close. And it’s never romantic; it’s never pretty; it’s just scary. I once had a girlfriend who worked at Napa State Hospital (or was a patient there—it’s all pretty hazy), the asylum where the Cramps once played. (Look it up—it’s pretty wonderful.) The way she described it was about as romantic as an ice-cold bedpan, which was how she described our relationship, alas. Back on topic, from afar, the insane are often idealized to a point of sacrificing one’s own safety. “Wow, they are such kooky fun.” But would you let one cook for you?
Living in Berkeley, I encountered my share of crazies. They were treated benevolently by
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