My parents made fun of me my whole life for not liking black and white movies. As a kid I absolutely refused to watch them and my parents called me spoiled, uncultured, said my generation lacked the attention span to appreciate good cinema. And I hated it. They wouldn’t listen to me when I told them black and white movies made me feel uncomfortable. They forced me to watch various old classics to prove how great they were, even resorting to showing me ones in full color, and I hated almost all of them.
And that’s because I didn’t hate old Hollywood movies because they were in black and white, I hate old Hollywood classics because of how women were represented and treated: like objects whose entire personality, hopes, and dreams get completely and utterly changed by the main male protagonist and this is portrayed as good and right. Even as a kid I could see this portrayal of a willful, confident, inspired woman be transformed into a “good women” by a domineering man until she perfectly fits in this housewife stereotype and it made me feel sick to my stomach. Women lacked any personhood at all in almost every one of my parents beloved “old classics.”
I guess all this is to say parents often say things like, “we didn’t raise you to be this way” or “why would you think we believe [some specific thing]” but like, it’s not just the things you directly tell your children that shapes who they become, it’s everything you expose them to and the message behind those things. Children are really quite remarkable at picking up context, so it’s important you’re aware of not just the direct message you’re sending, but the subtext and context of everything around it.
I also have the need to entertain you and will constantly ask if you want anything if you come to my home because “being a good host” was drilled into me from birth
How come your kid can be whoever they want when they grow up, but when I try it it’s “identity theft” and “illegal”
Friend: “How’s that book coming along?”
Me: “Which one?”
Friend: “You already finished one?!”
Me and my seventeen half-finished prologues of various novels and thirty other abandoned books with absolutely no endings: “Well, you see...”
SEA what i did there?
Say it Ain’t So on infinite repeat in a Barnes & Nobel that never closes
This reminds me of the time my old roommate asked me to cut an apple for the dish he was making and the absolute, utter disappointment in his eyes when he looked over and saw me cutting it with a fillet knife.
He did most of the cooking after that because apparently I “couldn’t be trusted with basic tasks” or whatever.
This. This is the level of sarcastic arrogance I strive to achieve; where even my weapons are snarky, contemptuous bitches
Something I did not expect was how profoundly funny it was to show up to the airport with a doctor’s note as a grown ass man to get out of doing the TSA’s naked machine
2020 is that one guy you know who has to take everything up to 11
Good luck trying to find a gold bar in this dumpster fire of a blog
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