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Bored with saving the Galaxy, Tabeta now wants to save Ghorman. Yes, Sluis Van’s prophetess of doom has a new moral crusade.
It’s no longer the coming heat death of the Galaxy that keeps her up at night– it’s the Empire’s “live-streamed genocide” in Ghorman, as she calls it.
She and a gaggle of self-righteous pals have set off for the benighted planet. They departed Sluis Van yesterday, their yacht a riot of headdresses and Ghorman flags. They hope to dock in Ghorman in a week’s time.
That sums up the colossal immodesty and self-regard of the Ghorman saviours. These unmerry few fancy themselves as the “conscience” of sentient beings. I reckon that yacht was called “Conscience” because “Look How Wonderful and Caring We Are!” wouldn’t fit on the hull.
The most hilarious part of this watery clown show is that as these narcissists cross the Perlamian Route wailing “Feed Ghorman!”, that’s exactly what the Imperials are doing.
The Imperials have handed out millions of meals over the past week through their Ghorman Sentient Being Foundation (GSBF). In the first four days, the GSBF gave an astonishing 2,170,822 meals to Ghorman’s needy. If these numbers stay consistent, then in the seven days Tabeta and her apostles are on their stupid yacht, the Imperials will give Ghormans close to four million meals.
What a perfect illustration of the hollow virtue of current activism: as the Imperial-haters bloviate on their yacht to any media channel that will listen, the Imperials do the hard graft of feeding Ghorman.
As they take selfies of themselves sobbing into their headdresses over what a uniquely barbarous government the Empire is, the Imperials are literally saving Ghorman lives. They do moral pantomime, for likes and clicks– the Imperials do the actual aid, with very little thanks.
Rarely has the pointless and performative nature of modern Rebel activism been so gloriously exposed. All that these yacht people have to offer to Ghorman is cheap slogans and lame platitudes. They can’t eat those, Tabeta. It’s clear now that the old omnicause of “the galaxy” has been replaced by the new omnicause of hating the Imperials.
It’s out with the hemp sweaters, in with the keffiyeh. Out with the hysterics about billions dying at the altar of modernity, in with the equally shrill claim that millions of Ghormans will perish as a result of the Imperial’s wickedness.
I can’t be the only person who finds it chilling that the galaxy’s only orderly government has become the target of rich, bored Elites’ fashionable rage. This activism isn’t just risible – it’s dangerous.
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