(UPDATED TWICE) For reasons that become more tenuous by the week, I still maintain an archive of Jordan Peterson interviews and miscellany, with RSS, no less (q.v.). I’ve never exchanged so much as a word with Jordan Peterson and clearly never will.

His Nº 1 Son, Julian, however, and I have been E‑mailing for months.

Julian Peterson (unbuttoned shirt over white T‑shirt) leans into frame to help Jordan

I wanted a meeting with Julian, who the journal of the dumb rich called “a [W]eb designer and programmer,” to somehow induce this designer and programmer to produce valid HTML and not seriously fuck things up.

As ever, follow the money.

  • Jordan Peterson earns $175,000 a year as a U of T professor. He should earn that much, and it’s his to do with as he pleases.

  • Peterson père takes in $607,000 gross per year via Patreonclearly eclipsing his stated goal, which was $480,000. Patreon never takes less than 5% of fulfilled pledges, so let’s call that figure $577,000. (But that’s U.S. dollars, so the values are higher.)

  • Ezra Levant et al. crowdsourced funding reserved for research, in particular for graduate-student salaries. That total was $195,230.

  • Put together, the Jordan Peterson Industrial Complex is worth $950,000 a year.

  • Peterson, moreover, earns a bit from his Authoring suite (Self‑, Future, Present, Past, and the upcoming Understand Myself), not included here.

For this kind of money, even with earmarks specific and nonspecific, Jordan and Julian Peterson can afford not to fuck up. In another topic I wanted to discuss with Julian, they can afford to be the first and only independent video producer with top-of-line captioning, which in turn implies top-of-line transcripts. For that essential purpose, this nearly-million-dollar-a-year business relies on untested volunteers, and the results are the expected shitshow.

Julian doesn’t know this, because he strung me along for months and was never going to meet me, and will now be too peevish to do so, but the Jordan Peterson Industrial Complex was going to be the test case for a new project to be entitled Caption Your Fucking Video Podcasts. You’d think I’d know better, in so many ways and in so many wrinkles of all the topics involved here.

Suddenly getting rich doesn’t teach you anything

You don’t suddenly become a captioning expert because you’ve got six figures to throw around. Try telling Julian that. (I did try.) That kind of money means you can afford not to be a fuckup. Ending up a fuckup nonetheless therefore represents a choice.

Why did we never meet? We had an appointment arranged after months of trying, but Julian told me he had something suddenly come up that couldn’t be avoided, a declaration that might even have the advantage of being true. He dodged every other occasion to meet, and belatedly proposed “meeting” via the single worst Internet communications platform, Skype – which naturally I don’t have, because naturally I have standards (somebody has to).

Jordan Peterson and I are never going to exchange a word. Neither, apparently, will his son and I.

Jordan described Julian thus – unbidden – in an interview, which obviously I could link you to, because I am the keeper of such links, but transcripts are supposed to stand on their own stead.

Like: My son. My son, he’s a tough kid. He’s very disagreeable – very emotionally stable and very disagreeable. So – so he’s deceptive, because you think he’s easy to get along with, because nothing upsets him. He’s not easy to get along with at all. You can’t get that kid to do anything that he doesn’t want to do. You have to just pound him flat to get him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, and then he just laughs about it anyway, you know?

And he was like that really from nine months of age. My wife and him had a battle over the spoon when he was nine months old, and he won.

Define “winning” in this context. I can’t.

Julian had extensive warning that I would publish this posting, down to the level of precise phraseology I intended to use (and did), yet had nothing to say.


(UPDATE, 2017.07.04) I think I’m reaching my limit of exasperation with this “project.” That happens a lot with self-assigned projects.

I just suffered through two more recordings from God-Emperor Herr Doktor Jordan B. Peterson in which he made now-classic mistakes.

  • He spoke yet again about the need to speak truth; how he surrounds himself with friends who tell him, with, he implies, brutal honesty, when what he’s saying isn’t working; how he values craftsmanship; how he likes to do things properly, loosely paraphrased.

    Yet, almost a million bucks a year later, he’s still relying on his disagreeable and visibly noncompetent son to do every single technical thing that doesn’t involve videotaping a lecture. I’m not complaining again about the captioning task that Julian Peterson couldn’t get his act together to even hear a pitch for. Herr Doktor Peterson is threatening to unleash more and more new Web sites, some with complex text-processing technologies on the back end, yet his son can’t mark up a semantic, accessible, or even typographically readable Web site to save his life.

    All that money will not make expertise bloom, like flowers in a desert. Funding does not generate knowledge, let alone experience, as if by parthenogenesis.

  • Right and wrong ways to wear earbuds while recording oneself. The wrong way is Peterson’s.

    Peterson: Earbuds dangling over shirtfront from ears. Henrik Palmgren: Earbuds with earhook and cable invisibly running down back

    At some point, one figures out that white-coloured earbuds work better (here, neither has).

  • The Kermit the Frog voice is endearing after a while. Maybe tolerable are Jordan Peterson’s malapropisms, like insistently saying “smoking pistol” for “smoking gun.” Not actually tolerable is his consistently rushed and incomprehensible pronunciation of “Pareto,” which he so mangles that his illiterate Millennial listener base won’t even have enough skeletal phonemes left over to Google it with.

  • The Doktor has told us of his decades of experience in “clinical practice.” He’s implied once or twice that he had a few gay patients. Peterson père isn’t a transphobe, whatever that might be in the first place, but my conclusion, after listening to him for about as many hours as a psychiatrist would a patient, is that he knows precisely nothing about gay men and even less about lesbians.

    As such, it isn’t just a malapropism when he insistently uses the phrase “sexual proclivity.” He’s trying to say “sexual orientation,” a term he surely knows, but he’s lumping actual gay and lesbian sexuality in with transgender delusions. He only ever talks about homosexuality in the context of those delusions and then only ever uses the phrase “sexual proclivity.”

    I go to leather bars and I know what a proclivity is. What I also know is that what individuals have is a sexual orientation. Calling it a proclivity is a Freudian slip, an unforced error, a window onto his true feelings. Jordan Peterson isn’t a homophobe, obviously, but just as obviously he’s ignorant about actual gay and lesbian lives – reprehensibly so given that he is a 55-year-old psychologist who holds a Ph.D. (and holds tens of thousands of young men, and some women, in thrall).

    My complaint here is not remotely in the same universe as some tranny getting his Adam’s apple worked up over third-person pronouns. It has nothing to do with the hill Peterson has chosen to die on (compelled speech). My complaint pertains to the insult communicated by “sexual proclivity.”

    Gay is real. Trans is ersatz. Gay men have a sexual orientation, not a proclivity. For a man of letters like Jordan Peterson to not just act but be ignorant of the foregoing is an abomination. It’s factually wrong and it’s an affront.

    As there are barely any other gay-male listeners of Peterson’s, my ire here will go unrecognized and unremediated. Jordan Peterson is going to keep accusing gay men of having a “sexual proclivity” until he dies.

Why am I pursuing this project?

Especially since I’m never going to exchange a single word with the great man, who recapitulates the classic dynastic error of letting his noncompetent son handle everything for him? That son won’t talk either.

Why am I pursuing this project? My people did not suffer, fight, and die for recognition so that we can be dismissed, by someone who should know better in the deepest sense of that phrase, for our “sexual proclivity.”

(Update, same day: Project shitcanned.)

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2017.05.19 14:14. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

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