Blinding flash of the obvious. So, I was thinking about metachat, and the obsession with bunnies, and I was thinking that the over-exuberance we applied to all things fluffy was done by some people (e.g. me) in an (start fingermarks here) "ironic" way. →[More:]

And it struck me that (a) no cynical person in his or her right mind would believe I was anything other than a rampant bunny-fancier, and then (b) I realised that perhaps I was a bit of a bunny-fancier after all and finally (c) perhaps it's not such a good thing to be telling jokes that are sexist, racist or homophobic in that same "ironic" way because (by way of a and b) that's absolute bullshit.

Which is a shame in a way. I've always had a soft spot for those jokes which "playfully" and "ironically" denigrate women. I don't want no hating here, but any joke which ends with a reference to staying in the kitchen has always tickled me.

From now until I forget, I think I'll explore the edges of "ironic" humour with overt references to all things cute. I envisage the following conversation.

Me: My house would be a lot nicer if it were covered in pink fur.
Them: You can't mean that. That's a stupid idea.
Me: Ha. I was being "Ironic"
Them: Bollocks. I don't believe that. What sort of a saddo are you.
Me: Aha, you have cleverly fallen for my trick. In refusing to accept my love of all things cute as "Ironic", you are in fact refuting your own argument that you're only laughing at the disabled as a form of pastiche.
Them: Fuck You. I wrote Little Britain. I'm a millionaire.