Safe places are unsafe islands of the individual: an archipelago as disruptive as it is destructive, poisoning the grounds of our greatest institutions by encouraging each person to stand his ground, not in defense of the words others have a right to say but against any words a man or woman does not want to hear; until the waters of protest—until an ocean of freedom—recedes into a drought of tyranny; until there is neither a drop for the olive branch nor a downpour for the tree of liberty; until all words are fighting words, forcing a clash between those who suppress speech and those who seek to unleash the floodgates of free speech.
To those who wield the virtual branding iron of the hashtag, to those who brandish it like a firearm—to those who would sooner ban all firearms than surrender their arsenal of accusations—I say: It is time to shout “fire,” and empty this theater of the wicked and end this production by the absurd. It is time to defend the Constitution from all enemies, foreign and domestic.
It is time—now is the time—to meet physical force with soul force, before silence induces violence.
That is, those who hate speech are more likely to express their hatred by soaking the earth with blood than staining the pages of history with pints of ink.
The red line they want to impose is as arbitrary as it is atrocious.
It is a line drawn by the libelous to slander a sex—to transform the act of sex into the crime of sexual assault—so those who bear false witness may free themselves of having to bear the burden of proof.
Mark my words: These maniacs will soon attack anyone who uses the wrong words.