Milo and Steven and me and a pizza

I'm not remarking on my own ponderous girth when I call myself a big fan of Milo Yiannoupolis and Steven Crowder.

The two have in recent years distinguished themselves as particularly wise and witty commentators. Their piercings of liberal pomposity (especially of campus-crawling SJWs) are both entertaining and, no less importantly, educational. 

Milo and Steven offer perspectives too seldom heard in media. I admire them and recommend their wonderful work. 

An illustration of the effectiveness of Milo's own acerbic, in-pocket observations and increasing influence and popularity -- as well as of liberal social media gate-keepers' clampdown inclinations -- is his recent banning from Twitter for criticizing small-scale talent, feminist comedic actor Leslie Jones. 

I would ask whomever owns Twitter next week: If one can't ridicule the obviously deserving, what the hell?!

And at his site, LouderWithCrowder, Steven presents short documentary films and in-studio streams-of-hip-consciousness that at once point up the pitfalls of the annoyingly politically correct and provide laughs for the intellectually discerning and just plain common sensible.

Another plus, for me, is Milo and Steven's untiring advocacy of the Donald Trump candidacy. I am myself a longtime supporter of Trump and expect to soon see him sitting behind that grand Oval Office desk. Pretty clearly, Yiannoupolis and Crowder are at the cutting edge of a popular movement surging away from liberal victimhood politics and toward a period of no-nonsense American rebirth.

But, about my fatness...

I should first note that I could not be more in agreement with Milo and Steven that "body positivity" mania embracing unhealthy conditions and choices is a clear negative. Its deceitful 'everyone is beautiful' mantra will doubtless prove a funeral dirge for many who will pass from waving slogan-crammed placards to early dirt because of their refusal to accept objective medical realities.

Admittedly, I would not be at all saddened to see Rosie O'Donnell and Lena Dunham belly-flopping into mere unpleasant recollections.

(Here, I remember the song "A Knife and Fork" Rockpile cut for their one, 1980s LP: "Girl, you're gonna let a knife and fork dig your grave / You eat every kind of food, you ain't nothin' but a slave...If you don't change some of your ways / girl, you're gonna shorten all of your days.")

Bookstore shelves are jammed with weight loss guides. I have yet to see even one 'how to get fat' book.

I do, though, sometimes perceive in Milo and Steven's commentaries an unconstructive mocking of fat people who, by sincerely trying to improve themselves, implicitly acknowledge the wrongness of bigness. 

Not everyone is in optimum trim. Staying in an ill state (even defiantly celebrating it as an "identity") can rightly be decried. But pursuing needed self-uplift (no winch jokes) hardly merits the same disdain.

I dig that tactical fat-shaming kinda has to be upsetting to be effective. But also that its not uncommon for larger-than-life ( I said, no winch jokes) personalities to make calculatedly provocative statements for the purpose of drawing spotlight.

But when one opts more loudly for controversialness than constructiveness, ticket-sales may see short-term benefit but practical effectiveness -- to say nothing of reputational distinction -- can suffer irredeemably (to borrow a Hillary slur).

A troubling question now presents itself: By stating my overwhelming ideological consonance with Milo and Steven, despite being four-squarely against their occasional cruelty-as-cleverness broadsides, am I trying to have my pizza and eat it, too?