Jim Goad Quotes - Page 3

Different groups in different areas developed different traits to assure their survival.

Here's an easy one: "Race is an entirely social construct." No, it's partially one, depending on how any given society seeks to define it and its implications. But there are basic things such as skin color and hair texture. Even a Martian who'd had no exposure to human "social constructs" would be able to spot those differences. But no Martian, as hard as he tried, could point at a "culture" or to "equality." Those are the social constructs. Those can't be measured in the same way as human DNA.

It was simultaneously refreshing and a bit shocking to see how cavalierly most Aussies toss out slurs and insults about nonwhites.

You could paper the globe with evidence that there are demonstrable cognitive and physical disparities between what are crudely called human "races." But you could fit all the evidence of innate equality on your pinkie fingernail with room to spare.

I've never had a meth habit, I don't walk around naked, and unless I'm actively provoked, I'm generally polite and well-spoken.

He who trades his identity for money will one day wind up with neither.

Hatespeak is usually more honest than lovespeak, and it's always better than doublespeak.

The criticism that has most consistently bothered me is the allegation that I'm a schlockmeister whose only objective is to shock people.

Show me pornography which promotes violence against women, and I'll buy it.

I'm more muscular than I was in my younger days. My biceps and shoulders, especially.

I didn't see much besides Melbourne and a quick trip down to the Twelve Apostles, but all the Aussies I encountered were good-spirited and had a fine sense of humor.

I don't think fatherhood's changed me so much as it's conjured protective instincts I've had all along.

I write to please myself.

The idea that the reader is important enough to me that I'd tailor my words to either please or offend them always seems amusingly alien to me.

I'll hit anyone who's seriously threatening my life... that's what happened, and that's what sent me to prison.

My hatred is diamond-hard.

I certainly didn't emerge from prison regretting anything I ever wrote, nor did I feel remorse for my crime in the least.

As I view it, spending over two years in a cage is far worse than having your face pounded and dealing with a black eye for a week or two.

When I write, I strain with every wizened fibre of my weathered frame to analyze every possible angle of any given subject.

I never want to think or write about the topic again when I'm finished with it.

You truly need to witness me goo-gooing and coo-cooing and making up goofy little songs to glean a full appreciation of how nauseating I can be. This is another instance where things seemingly don't add up - how can this vile, hateful, violent, misogynist, racist, loathsome, repugnant, worthless, reprehensible subhuman be so insanely tender and kind to little doggies and kitty-cats?

Plenty of people have bad divorces, but few of them end up with cancer, imprisonment, and public scorn. In the dark, rolling, treacherous wake of that sunken ship, the last thing I sought was a "relationship" or, heaven forbid, marriage.

I don't think it's entirely paranoid to suspect that one day, you won't be able to so much as question the primary tenets of anti-racism without going to jail.

I'm developing a mild rash at the idea of "plugging" anything, because it's not how I roll.

In my long, long years toiling around the publishing industry, I've found that women simply don't stick to the writing with the same fervor that men do.