The Lord Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, is always an outspoken person to say the least. This week he observes the flurry of outrage against the favorite son of his city, astrophysicist Matt Taylor, and determines that this, at long last, is a London Bridge too far.
I watched that clip of Dr Taylor’s apology – at the moment of his supreme professional triumph – and I felt the red mist come down. It was like something from the show trials of Stalin, or from the sobbing testimony of the enemies of Kim Il-sung, before they were taken away and shot. It was like a scene from Mao’s cultural revolution when weeping intellectuals were forced to confess their crimes against the people.
Why was he forced into this humiliation? Because he was subjected to an unrelenting tweetstorm of abuse. He was bombarded across the internet with a hurtling dustcloud of hate, orchestrated by lobby groups and politically correct media organisations.
And so I want, naturally, to defend this blameless man. And as for all those who have monstered him and convicted him in the kangaroo court of the web – they should all be ashamed of themselves.
Okay… the comparisons to Mao, Stalin and North Korea might have been a tad bit over the top, but at least he recognizes the inane nature of the attacks and is willing to speak out about it. Of course, Hizzoner does himself no favors when he discusses his careful research on the subject matter in question.
As for the design of the garment, I have studied it as closely as the photos will allow, and I can’t see what all the fuss is about. I suppose there are women with long flowing hair and a certain amount of décolletage. But let’s not mince our words: there are no nipples; there are no buttocks; there is not even an exposed midriff, as far as I can see.
That would sink you in US politics, but in London I think you can get away with it.
The outraged feminists who decided to turn their wrath on Dr. Taylor clearly thought they had found some sort of beer swilling frat boy who was ready to denigrate “the weaker sex” at the drop of a hat. But the more I read about his background, the more we saw the real story. We heard tales of the man’s private life, including members of his family who said he frequently can’t even remember where he parked his car.
The truth quickly became clear. Taylor is one of those guys. You know the ones if you ever watch any Science Channel shows. He’s that geek with an IQ north of 170 who spends his time standing in front of a two story chalk board sketching out formulas which wouldn’t pass for good graffiti for most of us. While I’m struggling to figure out whether or not I should start Jay Cutler in my fantasy league next week, Matt Taylor is staring at a blank section of the wall for hours on end calculating the trajectory of balls of ice and rock orbiting Saturn. And when he’s not landing spacecraft on comets, do you know what he’s doing? He’s in his mom’s basement playing Dungeons & Dragons with the same five geeks he’s been hanging around with since he graduated high school at the age of 12.
Really feminists? This is who you decided to level your guns at over the shirt he had on? You’re lucky he remembered to wear a shirt that day. Run along. Dr. Taylor has probably already forgotten you complained in the first place and is currently mulling a way his coffee mug could be converted into a cold fusion reactor.