oh, the eye-rolling


My Fellow Americans:

Let me begin this diatribe by admitting that I am:

a) a dick

b) a snob

c) occasionally guilty of the things I’m about to accuse you of.

That’s fine; I can take the hypocrisy because I’m a dick, and I can take being a dick because I’m a hypocrite. But that doesn’t stop the fact that you people are icky, and getting ickier by the minute.

Do I lump my friends and family in there? Why of course not. Y’all get a pass. Because I’m not just a dick, I’m also exclusionary. Some people call that loyalty, other call it a cheap way to make broad generalizations without pissing everyone off.

That’s fine too. As my brother Sean likes to tell me, just admitting that you’re a dick/snob doesn’t give you a free pass to being a dick/snob. And so I am paying for this pass with your disapproval; I do not expect it to be free.

But my fellow Americans, you are fat and you smell bad. You dress like shit, and I would say you have no self-respect, but the reality is you may have too much. Why have you stopped caring what the world thinks? It’s as though many of you hit 40 and completely ceased giving a shit.

I’m here to say that I care. I haven’t given up on you yet, so please give up on that Tampa Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt. Men, why do you constantly wear clothes that turn your massive bodies into corporate advertisements? The only writing that should ever be on a shirt involves either irony or your favorite sports team. At least a Celtics jersey conjures up an emotional allegiance – being a commercial for Hollister just conjures up the end of creativity.

One more thing, guys: I don’t care how hot it is. I don’t deserve to be subject to your toes.

Look, I’m not perfect. I have bad skin, skate shoes, and god knows my BMI isn’t going to inspire a nation to conquer the fuckin’ triathlon. But for the love of god, if your love handles are going to spill over the armrest and into my airplane seat, I would like you to pay for the part of my seat that I’m unable to use. On this particular flight home from Hawaii, that accounted for about one-fifth.


I’m not saying this because it makes me miserable, which it does. I’m saying it because you look like you’re miserable, a nation of humongous automatons walking around with dreadful haircuts, cutting in line at Burger King, always bothered, always one item shy of what you were supposed to be at for on with.

Stop barking at me. Stop yelling at your kids. Quit pushing me into the fucking tram! I get it, there’s too many of us. My wife and I are doing our part; looks like we’re replacing the two of us with only one.

For the love of god, men, stop looking at their boobs. They know when you’re doing it. Hell, I’m sitting across the room, and I know when you’re doing it. And ladies, if you don’t want them to look at your boobs, stop wearing things that say LOOK AT MY BOOBS. Unless I am missing THE WHOLE POINT.

I’m going to start donning an ascot. I will part my hair squeakily down the middle, and dress for dinner. I will say please and thank you and sip my soup with the spoon sweeping away from me. I will scrub with the finest unscented soaps and take up only my tiny, allotted space in a public place.

I will retire to the country, sit in my drawing room, and with a quill pen, I shall complete the Fourteenth Volume of “Things What Offend My Precious Sensibilities”. Join me for tea?

0 thoughts on “oh, the eye-rolling

  1. Greg T

    Like the writing, if not the sentiment. Sometimes it can be cathartic to read someone else saying the things I occasionally think, even if I do immediately scold myself for the hypocrisy of thinking the thoughts.
    Posted while wearing flip flops and a kona brewing t-shirt.

  2. Ehren

    Toes are beautiful.
    But you forgot one thing. Why is it half of America is wearing clothing all of a sudden that says “Love Pink”? I know that this is a brand of clothes made by Victoria Secret, but this still doesn’t explain why people are buying them. I just have no idea why this is popular.

  3. LFMD

    I hear you. And, it will follow you everywhere! We were on vacation last week at the Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas. Wonderful resort, wonderful vacation. BUT, I was annoyed by the sheer amount of PEOPLE there. Kids shoving me in the water slides line, a woman yelling at my husband because she thought he was about to sit in her claimed beach chair (he wasn’t), the cruise ships unloading people onto the resort every day. . . long lines at the food establishments.
    And, the people! Every imaginable size and shape of tattoos, waltzing through the fancy resort lobby in dripping wet bathings suits, etc. No cover ups, inappropriate sayings on t-shirts. Not everyone was like this, mind you, but enough so that I felt as if I was on the boardwalk at Seaside Heights instead of an expensive resort where the average price of a room was $500 a night.
    I expected to see a more refined group of vacation-goers, but it was the same old group of sloppy Americans, with more disposable income.

  4. Mark

    Maybe you gays should just move to damn France and just SUCK IT FROM AMERICA. We love Afflicktiun t-shirst with ed Hardy jeans and and boobs are hot and so are boobs in holister clothes. And yeah if your not getting out of my way I will push ur ass.

  5. Chuck B.

    I agree with you on most of the complaints in this post SAVE FOR:
    1. Men can wear flip flops any time they want as long as they keep their feet clean and their toenails neat. It’s a liberating feeling to take off my work shoes and slip on my flip-flops at night, and I ain’t gonna give it up.
    2. As you well know from your own “Breast Liberation Day” posts, its almost impossible NOT to steal glances at all flesh being paraded around Manhattan on a 95 degree day like today! As long as you are quick, discreet and non-creepy about it, you might as well enjoy what’s being displayed in the shop window.

  6. Sarah

    it’s a breath of fresh air. Like late 80’s Wednesday mornings in Chapel Hill with the DTH, but with profanity.
    Atlanta’s otherwise very sad newspaper, the AJC, has a feature called the Vent that you might enjoy.

  7. Tow

    Not that it makes what you say any less true, but after spending 4 years in China, the USA is like a breath of fresh air. Literally. Can’t wait to spend a few weeks back in California.

  8. Piglet

    Dude, the T-shirt was given to me for free, and I only wear it in the gym. I work out at the gym so often and hard each week that I need a fresh T-shirt each time and I run through them all.
    On the flip side, I’ve lost 30 lbs this year so far. So you can’t lay that part at my toe-concealing footwear-clad feet.

  9. Father Tim

    No kidding on men’s hairy toes being displayed in public. I was in a meeting this week where I was subjected to this. Get some socks, dudes.

  10. Kjf

    This made me remember the time my husband refused to sit down on a plane because of the fat and smelly man who was spilling into his seat. They were about to kick my husband off the plane when he suggested the gate agent sit in the seat and see how he liked it. Surprisingly he did and they kicked the fat/smelly guy off. Everyone around us was grateful and the flight attendant thanked him. Of course this was before 9/11- if that happened now my hubby would be the one hauled away!

  11. LFMD

    It is a generational thing. I just returned home from volunteering with my dog at the local Assisted Living/Alzheimer’s Care residence. Everyone there is always dressed nicely. Always. Even the folks in the Alzheimer unit. They may be 80 plus years old, in failing health, and possibly losing their minds, but the Greatest Generation knows how to dress and act appropriately. Visiting our friends at the residence is always a breath of fresh air. I can count on manners, politeness, and pleasantries. Same can’t be said for the rest of American under the age of 70.

  12. jje

    Amusing to read this after my return from my husband’s first Ironman in Coeur D’Alene (he rocked it out – 10:55:26). Five days of being completely surrounded by 2,700 examples of near physical perfection, and most being what I would describe as clean-cut banker/doctor/lawyer types. Shirts with advertising, yes, but of hardass triathlons/marathons they’ve competed in or sponsors of various products they use. Tons of over 40 guys, presumably hoping to prove to themselves? others? they’ve still got It.
    At any rate, it was certainly inspiring.


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