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I feel filthy.
I rather agree with collounsbury though for somewhat different reasons, and only as far as the original example, i.e. Johanna. Leaving out all the sidetracks about ancient Roman methods and bases for punishment, I think Johanna has supplied more than ample 'proof' of wingnuttery even by loose message board standards.
It has nothing to do with her gender identification (or whatever the proper term is) relative state--physical or mental--of transgenderism or even her distinctly eccentric choice of beliefs, i.e. the cult of Cybele and ecstatic drumming. Though I can't even read 'ecstatic drumming' without cracking up laughing. Go all Keith Moon, wilde womyn.
My problems with her are just ones of degree. I don't care if people fervently believe in Cybele, Astarte, Allah, Jesus, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or their own left toes. I also don't care if they like to fuck men, women, both, none, all, inflatable goods or at separate tables. I believe, quite firmly, that it's none of my business. There's nothing I could, should or would do about it, 'it' being religious beliefs or sexual practices. Long, impassioned screeds about same fall squarely into extreme over-sharing territory.
If somebody wants to cherry pick ancient religions, get married in Star Trek costumes with fake Vulcan ears, believe they're really a 'tyger' or cartoon lion accidentally born in human shape or their erogenous zones are in non-standard locations, that's swell. Long may they...whatever. Same goes with more mainstream religions AFAIC.
What people don't have to do, and I'm under no obligation to appreciate, is grandstanding. I don't mind that Johanna might be a little--okay, very--giddy with her new-found freedom to be her inner self or whatever. I don't mind that Lib determines, by increasingly tortured 'reasoning', that Jesus and God or whatever his kick du jour are real because he believes so. I DO mind their relentless narcissism. I do mind that they don't have the common sense, much basic perspective, to shut the hell up about their fascinating selves once in a while.
I rate compassion and the willingness to live and let live highly. But when people don eye-popping guises, climb into little clown cars to roar down the street, blare the horn and yell, "Look at me! I'm a parade!!" then yeah, I'm going to roll my eyes.
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