When I was a young teenager, I used to drive my friends and relations mad by testing out ideas on them as if they were my own dearly held beliefs - just to see if any of them held water. I still do.
So I would calmly give my WW2 veteran uncles a lecture on communism and the evils of capitalism during the Christmas period, and - once or twice - a couple of them came close to an inconvenient heart-attack, or had to be physically pulled off me by their wives and daughters, whilst everyone else was trying to have a nice, peaceful time. In short, I was the classic pain in the arse.
During this time, I became a vegetarian - well, almost a vegan, actually - which had the same effect on the rest of my family as it did on my Christmas uncles. I didn't actually tell them it was wrong to eat meat or wear leather, but I must have exuded a 'holier than thou' sort of fragrance which came close to putting them off their turkey. I stayed a vegetarian until the age of 28 or so, when I decided that I could take on the responsibility for killing an animal for food, though I have so far avoided doing that, despite owning a small arsenal of weapons designed for just such a purpose.
After long and careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that - after the age of 16 or so - people don't basically change. I certainly haven't, which explains why you all got your virtual knickers in a twist when I tried to inspire some sympathy for the fat kid from Harry Potter in the previous post, caught drinking stolen Champagne and sentenced to a greater period of time in a basic prison than most paedophiles get for fondling the genitals of 5 year old children.
I suppose you could call it 'Devil's Advocacy', but in reality, I am still trying to work out what is right and what is wrong, whilst trying not to heed the screaming 'advice' given on the subject by Rupert Murdoch's red-top tabloids.
I prefer to think of this activity as the 'flea on the dog' irritation that was invented by another hero who lived about 1000 years before Jesus Christ - Socrates. I think that may be a bit presumptuous though, but it's ok to have heros in my book - depending on who they are.
I fucking hate clap-traps, and I fucking hate the sort of garbage put out from the moral high-ground by people who call themselves Christians, but behave like a lynch-mob. The same applies to atheist Socialists, and the same applies to out and out fascists as far as I am concerned too.
So you see, I am still a crazy, mixed-up kid.