Pub date June 13, 2013
SectionPolitics Blog

One of the more hilarious aspects of the back and forth in “Mr Redmond’s Cyber Playpen” is the inevitable scream from Redmond’s adversaries of “envy” every time Redmond posts anything critical of SF’s moneyed class. Imputing motive into why someone says something as a way of derailing a discussion is old hat as is. Who cares why something is written, it’s there, debate its merits. But the automatic assumption that Redmond’s bitterness over his failure in business leads him to muck-rake isn’t even asinine, it’s borderline demented.

As Redmond (and I) came from a relatively privileged background and yet voluntarily chose a profession where getting rich isn’t part of the reward at all, why would we envy those whose ranks we could easily have joined? Journalism, even when print media was thriving, isn’t lucrative. Neither is music/radio work. I can’t speak for him, but as someone that actually turned down a career in brokerage to play rock and roll, accumulating money didn’t seem anywhere near as gratifying. As Earl Butz pointed out many years ago, there are more important things in life.

An investigative reporter in any major city is gonna find lots and lots of sweetheart deals between City Hall and developers or landlords or any business interest. And would be remiss to not report them. It’s part of the gig they love. And lordy be, giving voice to people that don’t have one is satisfying if not fiscally rewarding. Claiming that Redmond must be envious of people he has nothing in common with is like claiming a gay man would envy the straight guy with the beautiful woman on his arm–she isn’t something he’d ever want, so it would never occur to him to be envious.

No, trollsky’s, the “envy of the rich” doesn’t come from Tim, Marke, Steve or I–but from you. All day every day planted on the lefty website hurling puerile broadsides like a cafeteria food fight–the idea that the rich and their government enablers are skeevy enrages you, because you wish so desperately to be part of a group of people that have no need for you (and recognizing that you’re a peon is too painful to accept). How dare anyone knock the people that are living YOUR dream? 

Hate to say it, but this is classic projection, or in layman’s terms “if you spot it, you got it”. Screaming “you’re jealous” at someone else when the big green globs of same are rolling off your brow like algae-laden sweat. It can be sort of funny in a pitiful manner at first but it’s gotten tedious–the hand that has the finger pointing outward has four pointing back at you. Next time you feel the urge to project, take four quarters off mama’s dresser and buy a lottery ticket. It’s healthier.