Why the wokeism wars are making me sleepy

Yes, the left has gone off the rails with wokeness, which used to be called “political correctness” about a half a second ago. When bad ideas fall out of fashion, they need a makeover and a relaunch, as noted by the always perceptive linguist John McWhorter, who calls it the “euphemism treadmill,” a term he admits lifting from Stephen Pinker, and which McWhorter defines as: “A well-used word or expression is subject to ridicule or has grimy associations. A new term is born to replace it and help push thought ahead. But after that term spends some time getting knocked around in the real world, the associations the old term had settle back down, like gnats, on the new one. Yet another term is needed. Repeat.”

Here’s hoping wokeism, or political correctness, or whatever we’re calling it five minutes from now is already in its death throes with its overreaching, victim-suckling, thought-policing, grievance-fabricating, and all around humorlessness. Neither am I suggesting that it isn’t a worthwhile endeavor, heckling the likes of Robin “White Fragility” DiAngelo, or Nikole “1619 Project” Hannah-Jones, or Ibram X. “Everything He Writes” Kendi. It is! (Please don’t stop on my account.)

And yet, one can’t help but shake the feeling that if wokeness does die, the people who will be muffling the loudest graveside sobs are the likes of Kid Rock and his pals on the right who have now turned trolling from a pastime into a religion, keeping their fingers crossed that somebody – anybody! – will try to cancel them. Martyrdom has always been good for business. Meaning that Mr. Rock, despite his protestations to the contrary, is likely dying for someone to tell him how to live. His crappy song has only been up on YouTube since November 19, and already has over three million views. (A million of those likely coming from the hall monitors at Media Matters.)