kung fu grippe

Epilogue

steelopus:

Do I expect the same access to someone like Merlin?

Well. Yeah. You should. It’s yours to use, and I’ll tell you why.

Because we’re pals, Greg. Shit, man, I even just flirted with you on your fucking birthday. How gay is that?

Because I like you, and you’re entertaining, and, although we’ve never met in person (yet), you’re one of the nice people I’m very happy to have discovered through this wonderful service. Organically and honestly. Not because I wanted to add another goddamned Barbie to my collection.

But, in order to do that — in order to spend time visiting with the people and places I choose? — it means I can’t do the same thing for the entire universe. And I’d be an idiot to pretend I can try. And how crazy is it that this even has to be said? The answer is “very.” It is very crazy.

To me, that nonsense is the definition of no-fun BS. And it’s exactly what I meant by that awful, mean, elitist, “douche” word: scarcity.

I think the combination of what we demand and what we are willing to sacrifice says a lot about who we are. And, like I’ve grown fond of saying, a priority is not just some good idea — a priority is the only thing that’s not allowed to die. It’s the exclusive thing that makes you say “No” to a million interesting things if there’s any chance any one of them might fuck up your Good Things. No matter what. Punto.

So, to your point about “customers” and whatnot, it’s positively loony to me that anyone would disrespect another person’s choice in this regard by getting all sad when that person refuses to lie to them in the manner to which they’ve become accustomed. Loony.

Specifically to your other excellent point about people v. businesses? Like I say, newspapers don’t read us back. Expecting a human with 16 waking hours to let the universe treat him or her like a walk-in refrigerator full of on-demand affection snacks is purely delusional.

Okay, sorry. Didn’t mean to continue this rant, but I did want to say thanks, Greg. And thanks to my Tumblr friends for tolerating all of this drama that’s not skinny girls with tattoos or pictures of fingerless gloves. Back to that soon, I promise.

But, finally, I really want to underscore why I believe it’s worthwhile to be such a cretinous defender of your own decisions: because it literally defines your life. Because I think about it a lot. For “work.”

The minute you let people you don’t know decide how you should live your life, you’re throwing your keys into the fucking lake.
Game over, Dr. Falken.

The world’s always going to be full of people who don’t like something about you. And, for myself (on most days anyway), the particularly noisy and demanding strangers who think they understand my life better than I do just get easier to dismiss all the time. It’s why puberty’s so nice to finish; you realize you’re made of more than other people’s opinions.

All of which means what? Well It means all that mean stuff liberates ample time to enjoy you guys. Whom I like. In a non-Barbie way.

So, high fives to all of you, and, as penance, here’s a picture of a Ballet Storm Trooper.

Source: merlin