A List Of People I Am Mad At, 2/19/21
This newsletter is a weekly (sometimes) list of people I am mad at. This is the list for February 19, 2021.
This morning on my Depression Walk™, a woman was shoveling her sidewalk and didn’t see me so she threw a couple of pounds of snow directly in my face, which was still not the worst thing that happened today.
Almonds aren’t that good. Do they have a particularly powerful lobby? Who paid my mother to say, for about 45 years, that instead of a full meal she would be fine with “a nectarine and 10 to 12 almonds?”
Why isn’t there a support group called, “Children Of Fathers Who Just Start Laughing When You Tell Them Modi Is A Fascist And Then You Hang Up On Him Because He Fills You With Rage, I Mean, You’re Thirty Goddamn Years Old And Does He Really Think That As A Journalist You Don’t Have Even The Vaguest Understanding Of How Corrupt Power Can Be But You Can’t Give Him The Silent Treatment Because Your Parents Share A Cell Phone And Your Mom Keep Calling Because She’s Knitting You A Sweater And Seems To Think Your Arms Are Six Feet Long.”
My father is getting a few slots this week because he has been particularly bad. The latest is he’s obsessed with Bergdorf Goodman — not the clothes, just the idea of it — but he can’t remember how to say it and today we got in a fight about how it is absolutely not called “Bergledorfman’s,” and he just calmly looked at me through FaceTime and said, “In any case, they’re both dead.” I KNOW THEY’RE DEAD. HOW DO YOU WIN AN UNRELATED ARGUMENT WITH AN OBVIOUS PIECE OF TRIVIA?????
I don’t care about the big dumb car making it to Mars. I hate space. Thinking about space makes me feel like I’m choking, as as evidenced by our last seeming fifteen fucking years of retrograde, the planets do not like me either and they’re out to kill me. What has Mars ever given me? Nothing but bad energy. Stop talking to me about space. Disgusting. Revolting. No thank you.
I cannot tell you the fights I used to have with my mother over how much I hated those lehengas that were purple and then somehow transitioned into YELLOW, making you look like a two-toned Popsicle melting in the sun, and then GARAGE, a company for the specific type of white teenager I am terrified of, comes out with this??????????
My niece keeps beating me at Street Fighter but her mom says I can’t “settle this for good with our goddamn fucking fists.” How is it my fault she’s 10?
I wrote about how Justin Timberlake kept building his career on the shoulders of women he screwed over, and why we don’t need any more Tekashi 6ix9ine explainers anymore.