If you need Rod Dreher to save you, are you really worth saving?

I've probably let it seep out that I'm not a big fan of whiners, particularly when it comes to Christianity and conservatism, both of which, it seems to me, should provoke us to more noble postures.

One expression of this that periodically irritates me is when I hear someone say that at the end of the day we can't be too hard on Rod Dreher - the archetype God studied when designing the weasel - because he stands up for us where we can't. Bullshit. Here's a prime example of just the opposite.

Today Dreher has a post up about a cop in Salt Lake City who found himself in some sort of trouble with his superiors for not marching in some sort of gay parade. Dreher's solution? Naturally, his Benedict Option - whatever that really is.

Coincidentally, or not so coincidentally,

This fall, a major university is planning a conference on the Benedict Option, as Christians and conservatives are considering the idea more seriously. I am planning a book about it, as a contribution to the public debate.

While the finer points of that LEO's obligations as an officer under orders remain unresolved, the main thing, the only thing, is that the officer chose to resign rather than fighting for his rights himself based on the abundance of rights and resources he already had available.

Dreher would encourage more to do the same, in the guise of a fatalistic vision of inevitable persecution, because it serves his personal bottom line.

One of Dreher's regular conservative commenters, Glaivester, comes to similar, if not quite as venally motivated, conclusions.

If you need a self-dealing weasel like Dreher to save you rather than standing up for yourself, what sort of Christianity or conservatism, exactly, do you represent that is really worth saving?

Reanimator

Straight from Miskatonic U. (not to be confused with Wossamotta U.), proof that hooking up the jumper cables to Sis's rotting earlobes is always worth a shot at another tinkle of paperback sales.

When The Dead Come For You

Read the whole thing, or, you know, just take my word for it and spare yourself another episode of this banal little horror show.

Yes, sir, you may have another

(or, as they say, an UPDATE to my post right below)

Well, the Plato of St. Francisville wasn't content with the episode of self-abuse I just posted about below, so he went for a double here.

In both posts there is a conspicuous commenter you may recall not only from my post about her here, particularly since many of you gallantly came to her support and defense.

Why is Erin significant here? Because what still hasn't happened to her shows us that our perception of Plato SF isn't just an aberration from having chased that egg salad and kosher dills with shots of a suspect tequila but is instead a real thing that continues to stink up the real world.

Many of you will remember that Erin has been with Dreher since back in the Beliefnet days, loyal as a dog. He even had her fill in for him there when he went on vacation and may or may not have covered her efforts with some babysitting pocket change. You know her most recently with respect to Dreher as one of the namesakes of his Evans-Manning award, a prize he awards, as far as I can tell, to keep commenters coming back in the hope that they may not only receive one but may also be so lucky as to have a new award named for them, too.

Well, as it turns out, Erin is a book writer in her own right, and even before she took issue with Plato's platitudes here and here, she had already self-published two young adult science fiction novels of her own, The Telmaj and her most recent A Smijj of Adventure.

Here she solicited honest reviews for her newest book from her friends (yo, Plato, flush the rest of the sammich down the toilet; that's you, dude) and family.

Now, what does the world know about Rod Dreher's family from his unbridled oversharing? That's right: they're young kids, all under 14, and geeky science fiction types - the ideal market for Erin's YA series. But no David Brooks generosity for Erin from Rod. Nope. Nada.

There are two types of people in the world: the self-annointed Platos and the hoi polloi, and, really, no one expects the former to consume the pathetic discharges of the latter, I mean, do they? There's a reason Dreher worships Downton Abbey the way he does: it reminds him never to dirty his hands by associating too closely with the help, so whatever Rod Dreher considers Erin, his blog bitch or his blog fluffer, it's unmistakeable from what he could easily do but has demonstrated now, twice, that he won't that the one thing he doesn't count her as is his friend.

We can see that even he recognizes what an exploitative little worm he is in all that he contritely doesn't say in the epic, Odyssey-length NFR he felt compelled to attach to Erin's comment here.

Now I don't have any kids and I don't read the sort of stuff Erin writes for them myself, but I bet some of you out there do have or know some kids who might like her stuff. So why don't you do Erin a solid, do what the Great Man, too busy stuffing buttered steak in his tum-tum, who only has the use for her a pimp would, won't do: spring for the $20 bucks or so to buy her books for your kids and review them for her. Even if you find something flawed in them, I'd bet she'll appreciate the feedback to help her improve in the future.

Given all the attention Dreher extorts from the world for himself, it's the least we could do for his unfortunate tool Erin: recognize her for the effort she's made and for whatever value she provides as a writer in her own right.