The Times They Are a-Unacceptable.

In person, I’m not really a griper. Based on the amount of gripe I spit on the internet, one may find this hard to believe, but it’s true. Me < most people, vis-à-vis propensity for griping. Why am I making this distinction? Because I’m about to gripe like the world is ending and Zeus just announced that only gripers are going to get into Valhalla (wouldn’t that be FUCKING NUTS?!).

Here are some things I’ve been meaning to get off my chest:

1. People take too many goddamn pictures all the time.

If you go through my family’s photo albums, in addition to being incredibly impressed by their impeccable organization and handsome pleather covers, you will find a photographic account of only the best shit my family’s done. Sure, there are some great candid pictures from unremarkable days, but there is so little documentation of unremarkable shit, it makes those days seem remarkable. What I’m griping about here is young mothers with iPhones taking one hundred pictures of their shitty babies eating mac and cheese at Chili’s. You don’t need all them pics, ladies! Why would your nasty kid even care to remember some dumb dinner he mostly spilled on the floor, much to the chagrin of his frumpy ginger blogger waitress? He wouldn’t, so put the phone down, finish your chicken crispers, and take your mobile amateur photography studio out of my section, please.

Here is an example of a worthwhile child photograph:


This photograph was snapped shortly after my sister and I were crowned victors of the PST championship in the doubles division. For those of you unfamiliar with the PST, it stands for Pure Sex Toddlers.

2. Everything is a goddamn system.

Specifically, beauty products. I’m not going to waste time griping about the complicated luxury beauty products which I barely understand, I’m here addressing the ones that should be simple. Like shampoo. Shampoo is a necessity for me because I have a lot of hair and also I live in a society. Because of my choice to live among other people, I like my hair not to smell like my dank pillow (dank in both ways– it’s both perpetually clammy and musty and also fucking awesome and covered in a Power Rangers pillowcase), or to look so crummy. As a result, I like to not buy the cheapest shampoo. The problem is that once you break the $3/bottle glass ceiling, shampoo becomes step one in the hair care system. I hate that the most. Because of my powerful aversion to brushing out my dready tangles, I am more than willing to spring for conditioner (usually step two of the system) but the buck stops there. Leave-in treatments and mousses and drying agents and whatever the fuck can go ahead and suck it. Total scam. And it’s not just hair care that’s needlessly systemic! Face wash is a damn nightmare. I just want a not that greasy face. Also, I don’t want to buy four items. I just want the one that basically functions in, like, a soapy capacity. Toner, what on earth do you do? Also getting too weird: Mascara. This is the only makeup I buy, and it got that way because I assumed it was the simplest thing. WRONG. There are these double ended Darth Maul mascara systems that blow my mind all over the mirror. They promise things like ‘hey we’ll bring out your blue eyes! we’re SO FUN’, but unfortunately I don’t see anything fun about having $8 stolen from me by the false promises of Manic Panic. No more systems!

3. Those dumb goddamn decals of stick people families are so dumb goddammit.

I don’t know quite why I find them so offensive, but I just think they are ten kinds of awful. I might take the same issue with them that I do with booster club lawn signs which is that they announce to potential maniacs the whereabouts and rough physical condition of your children (seems antithetical to today’s hyper-paranoid child rearing atmosphere), but maybe I just think they are a little boasty and shitty looking. That all being said, I had a blast designing this wacky version of my family where my dad is a murderer, my mom is a tight end, and my sister and I are grumpy coal mining twins:

Stupid Decal

4. There isn’t anything anywhere reminding me how goddamn awesome Iguanodons are!

I haven’t though about iguanodons in years, and I see this as being a sizable anti-boner as well as a relatively monstrous hitch in my giddy-up. I know that some of the blame lies with me, but come on! Is it so much to ask that major American cities erect modest statues of this excellent dinosaur as a reminder to the citizenry that iguanodons existed and were fucking cool? I don’t think I’m asking anything out of line.

5. Goddammit!

What this all boils down to is that I am getting pre-maturely irrelevant. I assumed people lost lost touch with shit in their late 50s, but I’m in my mid-20s and about 67% of the zeitgeist confuses, alienates, or enrages me. Allow me to list for you the contents of the back seat of my car: 1 compound bow, 5 arrows for said bow, a pullover Paul Kariya Anaheim Mighty Ducks windbreaker, and about three dozen cassette tapes. Where is there a place in this smart phone world for my analog music, weaponry, and Asian hockey player memorabilia? Maybe in some kind of a cabin? If you find it, please tell me, and maybe draw me a small, precise map of how to get there. Please make sure it is precise. Thanks!


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