It's not just that what she says is so pig-ignorant—although it is. Let's take this gem, for instance...
I keep remembering and then forgetting; a welcome pleasant thought will be interrupted by the terrifying reminder of what they are going to do to the Human Rights Act.The Human Rights Act is not human rights, Rhiannon. In this country, we've been quite good at human rights. For hundreds of years, in fact. And restoring the power of British courts as the final arbiters of our laws does not mean that we are going to suddenly abolish human rights.
But I digress. The real kicker is this particular section [Emphasis mine—DK]...
I finally broke down properly at around 6pm on Friday, when I allowed myself, finally, to think about my little brother, who is severely disabled, and what might happen to him. Whether I should grab him and run for the hills so that we could camp down together under warm, soft blankets and not come down again until the bad people have gone.Well, that's not going to happen, is it, Rhiannon? Because that would mean that you would have to take care of your "severely disabled" little brother.
And the reason that you are worried about what this government might do to changes in state provision for the disabled is because you want the state to take care of him—because you don't want to.
(Although, of course, you will happily use his condition as an token anecdote to shore up your credibility in a woefully fact-free opinion piece for a national media outlet.)
And if you don't want to take care of him within the rather opulent confines of this society, with all of its attendant services, you certainly are not going to do so up on a poxy hill with a few mouldy, old blankets for protection from the elements, are you?
So, Rhiannon, let me just clarify what I'm saying here: I am pointing out that you are a massive hypocrite, and your hypocrisy is the entire basis of your argument.
Now, why don't you go and have a cry about that?
In the meantime, just let the rest of us get on with our lives without having to risk stumbling across your self-serving, shroud-waving drivel.