Or should they be shamed? And if they’re not directly hurting anyone, are they allowed the luxury of having the best of both worlds?
A gender-related example is the way that many men and women will choose their partner for superficial reasons (looks or money), but react negatively to being called superficial. They want to reap the benefits of superficiality without the tarnished reputation that goes with it.
A non-gender related example would be wearing and using animal products which are made through non-ethical means. It’s immoral to support killing animals for aesthetic purposes (or at least it’s MORE immoral than refusing to support this industry), but do we deserve the guilt that goes with this? Or should we be allowed to enjoy certain unethical luxuries without being made to feel ashamed?
By teaching people that they’re allowed the best of both worlds, aren’t we teaching them a bad lesson? We are all guilty of something or another. Technically, we deserve to feel ashamed for various reasons. Through guilt, we may learn from our mistakes and feel obliged to refrain from these guilty activities/attitudes, making the world a better place. But if the world will not be a better place, is the guilt then unnecessary? Are we automatically exempt from the lesson if it doesn’t affect those around us? Going back to the first example, which doesn’t usually hurt people, would you say that a person is right to refuse the title of superficiality since their “crime” is harmless?
– – –
Now I will share with you a short anecdote about a unicorn and a s℮x toy manufacturer.
Once upon a time, there was an old woman named Dorothy who made a living making dıIdos. Her toys were not like any other – one special secret that no other manufacturers knew about allowed her to monopolise this industry over the years. Now, at age 84, she had a huge factory and employed over 7,000 workers, all sworn to secrecy about the one, special secret that made her dıIdos so rarely exquisite and brilliantly effective. The secret, alas, was unicorn blood. For inside her thriving workshop lived a herd of beautiful unicorns, each subject to questionable practices by her trained employees to draw their blood for the hedonistic pleasure of young single women (including feminists) everywhere. This questionable practice caused the unicorn a great deal of distress on a daily basis, and physical pain as the blood was drawn through their sensitive flank.
The workers were merciless, thriving on money, materialism and the incentive of keeping their highly ranked business up at its optimal position in the world market, in the form of monthly bonuses. The unicorns lived a sad and lonely life, fearing humankind for their cold-hearted treatment.
One day, the woman felt a strange sensation across her body, a feeling of lethargy and distance – the feeling of her life slipping away. She knew that soon she would die. At 84, she had lived a full life, with all the money and possessions she could ever desire, with only the shameful secret she kept hidden at the bottom of her heart to bring moments of darkness into her life. Throughout her existence, it had been a constant battle of her conscience. Should she admit her terrible secret, and shatter her financial bliss by screaming out her cruelty for the world to hear, only to be shattered to pieces by the immediate onslaught of legal battles, bloody hatred pouring from the mouths of animal rights activists, and the absolute end of her precious business she had invested so much time and energy into, as the secrecy of her success became common knowledge to the world.
Now, at the end of her life, she felt strangely immune to this idea of destruction. Was it perhaps because, in death, she could no longer appreciate her physical luxuries and the warm sentiment of success? Strangely, this wasn’t why, she mused. She considered that her success could be considered unearned by her unwillingness to admit her wrongs, instead of simply celebrating her brilliance. Suddenly, she wanted the world to know exactly just what kind of cold-hearted b*tch she was. She wanted paint sprayed on her coffin in the shape of offensive scribbles; she wanted to be pushed off the edge of life by the massive expression of guilt of an entire nation.
Slowly, Dorothy made her way to the unicorn enclosure. It was after working hours, and most of the creatures were sleeping. She looked around and watched the movement of a wakened creature as it tensed, noticing her presence. She sighed, watching the animal in the corner of her eye as thoughts of her impending doom flooded her mind. Slowly she closed her eyes and, with a sharp jolt, her heart flooded with adrenaline as the unicorn unexpectedly kicked her in the head. She fell to the ground, taken by surprise, and died instantly. A dildo fell from an overhanging shelf and landed in her eye socket.
The end.
What is the moral of