The other day, I called someone out who posted a culturally insensitive comment online. I didn't go "full Karen" as the kids say, but I simply commented something like "yikes" on a tweet they REALLY should've thought twice about before posting. The next time I logged on, I discovered that person replied by calling me a member of "the woke mob."
I'm not even sure what the "woke mob" even is. If you've ever caught me at the start of a work day, you could likely call me a bunch of things -- but trust me, "woke" wouldn't be the first adjective that comes to mind.
Not that I don't care, but social justice has never really been my bag. I'm too shy and awkward to raise my voice, I'm too fat and lazy to march anywhere, and I can easily get irritated by riled-up and passionate people on EITHER side of the political fence. Plus, I don't want to live in a world where poking good-natured fun at something can get you cancelled. If there's one thing the world needs these days, it's good-natured fun.
The most "woke" I ever get is one simple credo:
If you're cool with me, I'm cool with you. I don't give a fig what color your skin is, which god(s) you fancy, what gender you are, or who you prefer to get freaky-deaky with. Just don't be a jerk, and we'll get along great.
But occasionally a line in wokeness must be drawn. I think I just found it in a recent article.
Have you heard about Akihiko Kondo? He's a 38-year-old guy in Japan who's having problems in his marriage. I can safely say that's a bummer. It's never good to hear about someone suffering marital strife. Thankfully, there are counselors and therapists to help couples through rough patches in their wedded bliss. Whew, right?
Except Kondo's wife isn't cooperating. She's unable to attend marriage counseling -- because she isn't real.
Kondo's "wife" is Hatsune Miku, a computer-generated cartoon pop singer popular in Japan. You see, Kondo identifies as "fictosexual" -- a growing branch of sexuality (with its own flag, of course,) signifying someone who is sexually attracted to fictional characters.
Don't worry, it gets weirder.
Hatsune Miku is a popular fictional creation who sings, dances, and even once appeared in hologram form as the opening act for Lady Gaga on one of her Japanese tours. Back in 2017, Japan unveiled a home entertainment device called Gatebox that allowed users to interact and converse with their favorite CGI hologram cartoon characters. In a marketing stunt, the company even offered marriage certificates for their holograms. With the right software upgrade, you could propose to the hologram of your choice, they would giggle and say yes, and presumably this is considered good usage of one's time.
Kondo took them at their word, and was wed to Miku the following year -- in a lavish real-world ceremony that cost around $18,000. His family elected NOT to attend (there's a shocker,) but some sixty other people DID, including friends, strangers, and Kondo's local member of parliament -- who must have been REALLY desperate to court the ever-important local fictosexual voting block. Also of note, Kondo didn't ask me to DJ the reception, which is a huge bummer because I'd pay good money to see a bunch of holograms doing the Cha-Cha Slide and Hokey Pokey.
Wedded bliss for Kondo lasted three years until a communications problem occurred in their relationship. This is probably because the software company opted to shut down Gatebox. Kondo's wife was discontinued overnight, and probably sits somewhere in cyberspace right now, hanging out with other outmoded software. I'd like to think she's chilling out on a beach somewhere with Clippy and Jeeves as I type.
There's a limit to my ability to be accepting of different sexual preferences -- and I'm pretty sure that limit is the point when you announce that you're married to a cartoon. To each their own preferences, I guess. You can prefer to label yourself a fictosexual all you want, but I'm afraid I prefer to label you as crazypants.
Maybe I'm just jealous. Perhaps there's some deep, dark fictosexual part of my soul that yearns to be betrothed to the Road Runner or something. (Admittedly, it'd probably be a fast wedding and super easy to shop for, considering the only things on our registry would be anvils and road-colored paint.) But I think I can safely cross fictosexuality off my list of future experimentations -- unless someone can guarantee that Joey Potter from Dawson's Creek would leave Pacey for me if I popped the question.
In the meantime, I'm mighty sleepy and think it's about time to stop being woke.
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