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To Umair Haque, With Some Apocalypse, But Mostly Love
Is he bat-crap crazy? Are we all going to die?
Very Unpopular Strong Opinions Blog by Christyl Rivers
To that UK Sir, Umair Haque, with love
It’s the final days. You must choose. Are you going to die?
Yes, you are probably going to die. Going up in flames. Drowning in despair.
It’s for the same reason it always is. You were an idiot. Why did you choose to be an imbecile? Even a child would know those matches were dangerous. That the river is deep…
Like a zillion other people, I enjoy reading the work of Umair Haque. He has a blunt pen, a serrated, scolding, tone, a dramatic sweep, and yet, like the word “eudaimonia” there’s an indwelling good. Hold on to the stabbing, shrieking fire tornado, and there’s always this little treat at the end.
Okay. I make fun of his rhetoric, but I think he is on to something.
It feels like a bomb goes off in your face but there’s a tiny, little bonbon that bounces out afterward so you get a little piece of candy with your warning to avoid all existential threats.