My Overton Window needs mending

Guest Post:

Some years back I contacted a Perspective Salesman about purchasing my very own Overton Window.

It was something I had been wishing to acquire for some time but I had been waiting until I was in a financial position to afford such a luxury for my rather modest dwelling.

At the time I was confident that he was a Salesman and not a Salesperson as he had a full beard and scratched his balls quite a lot.

Now I’m not so sure.

After some fairly recent Social Political Tectonic activity, my newly acquired Overton Window has sunken down into an abyss of seemingly never-ending contradictory rhetoric, mired in an endless sea of multi-coloured Cultural Marxist Nihilistic undercurrents.

I contacted the contractor in question in order to request some assistance in correcting this entropic perspective but was informed that the gentleman in question was no longer working there due to his inability to become gender fluid.

He/She/It was now undertaking an advanced course of gender reassignment surgery and cognitive re-establishment therapy, in order to become more ‘work ready’ for possible future employment.

After inquiring whether there were any other contractors who were available, I was told the following: that the shift I was complaining about was an inevitable part of a changing world; that I should be happy with the privilege I currently enjoyed; and that an environment void of reason and logic was not something covered under my warranty.

After purchasing a Spirit Level I attempted to make some rudimentary changes to at least alleviate the left hand lean I had begun to notice. However, no amount of undercutting on the right seemed to make any difference.

So how has my view changed for the worse you may be wondering?

I used to be able to enjoy a landscape full of rose-tinted flowers nestled next to a babbling brook, wherein reason and common sense were the order of the day.

About the fringes of my perspective, the noxious weeds of Communism and Fascist ideology were kept in place by the occasional go around with a Scrub Bar and afterwards packed neatly into a Wool Fadge for a trip to the Dump which was undertaken once every three years.

And now what do I see?

My lovely babbling brook is currently being urinated into by a black-clad masked figure espousing Anarchism who has probably never even heard of the Spanish Civil War.

Over in the corner, an Ethno-Nationalist is arguing with a Civic-Nationalist about what came first, the chicken or the egg. However, they are both being drowned out by a Feminist who is robustly insisting that the chicken and the egg are both merely social constructs and therefore neither one takes precedence over the other.

Meanwhile, all I can hear is the otherworldly screeching of a naked Social Justice Warrior as it squats in a pile of its own narcissism flinging pieces of excrement at the occasional cynic who just happens to pop by for an eyeful and a laugh.

But perhaps what concerns me the most is the Islamo-Fascist figure I can barely make out hiding behind a dilapidated statue of Queen Victoria, who seems to be busily putting together some strange looking device connected to an assortment of multi-coloured wires and alarm clocks.

If there is anyone out there with experience in correcting altered states of mind and foundational strengthening, I would sorely love to hear from you.

Kind Regards

Orinjamba

 


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