Monday, March 23, 2009

This has nothing to do with poetry

At least, not that I know of.

Also, I am aware that hand-wringing about the folks who post on internet forums is specious at best.

So in case you didn't know already, I am a nerd.

Part of my nerdiness involves reading webcomics, like this one.

Now, for those of you who aren't nerds, black dragons, like the ones being shown in a sort of wholesale, Godfather-esque slaughter, are evil.

Not evil like Mr. Burns in the Simpsons but evil like Hitler and Stalin. Greedy and vicious and ready to eat your babies for no good reason. Kind of like polio or MRSA.

What I don't understand is that there are a good number of folks posting on the site's forum about how evil it was to kill all those poor widdle dragons.

Huh?

If the world were covered in deinonychi bent on eating us because we're slow and fleshy, why would we cry if they were killed? Especially if they were ten times as large, could fly, and spit acid on us. . .

I suppose this all comes down to anthropomorphism writ large. Maybe it does have something to do with poetry. People grow up with Mother Goose rhymes and think that everything that can raise its eyebrows is somehow human and should be afforded human rights.

Which is just silly.

I guess that makes me anthropocentric. But of course I'm anthropocentric. Why would evolution/God/FSM make us anything but anthropocentric (I guess we could be theocentric but that's a whole nuther post. . .)?

In fact, if you're a person -- and you aren't anthropocentric, I would encourage you to go live in the forest (or whatever wild you can find) with the clothes you can make for yourself (without killing anything else -- you can always collect and make your own wool) and eat the best you can without disturbing any other creature.

If you aren't willing to do this, then please admit you're anthropocentric too -- and stop whining about dead dragons.

1 comment:

Percy Bisque Silly said...

O Woe Betide!

"Writ large" be a fine phrase
For a fit young Anthro
Liken to Thineself.
For woe betide that oft' it be today
All Elegance of Language,
Pelican-like, hast gone
A’squawking off in Times Moderne;
For poor fair Poesy nowadays
Hath no meter, rhyme,
Nor metaphorical Meter Maid
To Pay.