I kinda agree with some of the sentiment here, but if you hate the city, is it necessary to live there? I think it’s usually even more expensive than outside the city so you cannot explain it with money.
Yes, if you like living with people. Why is it OK for cities to be plastered with ads? It’s been shown they are not necessary.
And it’s not like TV or Youtube where ads are subsidising my experience. Outdoor ads are very rarely subsidising the thing you are experiencing. Sure, maybe ads on buses and bus stops help lower bus costs. But most ads are on buildings and billboards where the city doesn’t benefit from them. And you can’t opt out from riding a bus plastered with ads that cover even the windows making you even more depressed. There’s no bus premium subscription.
That’s how slang develops. It starts in ingroup vernacular and propagates out either fizzling out or sticking around as an actual word. AAVE is one of several sources. LGBTQ, sports, and video game lingo tend to be other popular sources.
Yup, “Y’all” is the example I’d raise for folks who say it’s all AAVE, Y’all pretty firmly comes into American vernacular out of its use among rural farming communities, not necessarily usage among black culture.
Not to mention how a significant chunk of new vernacular is going to always be coming from the diasporatic distribution pipeline bringing new languages and dialects to America constantly. Granted this is mostly how new kinds of food enter the American linguistic pallette, but you get the idea.
Ya, it comes from all over. Culture is a shared experience that brings people together and should not be treated as antagonistic, regardless of origin.
So... is she sending the dick into the friend zone? Or is she saying that the dick is effectively a friend zone and she wants to use it more? Or is she saying that everyone in her friend zone goes on his dick? Or should he put anyone in his friend zone on his dick? I'm confused.
People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.
You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity.
Fuck that. Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.
You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.
It’s strange. I’ll write a pretty tight email, looks concise on my computer screen. Send it, walk away, read the replies on my phone and it looks like the prologue on a food blog recipe.
There’s a widely spread, rumour that the last Australian Prime Minister - Scott the liar from the Shire Morrison shat himself in an Engadine McDonald’s in 1997 after his team, the Cronulla Sharks lost the finals. The rumours were persistent enough that he had to deny the rumours ~20 years later on one of the most popular radio show in the country.
Considering how much time he spends with a gormless shit-eating grin plastered all over his dumb mug, some of that shit was bound to overflow at one point or another.
through her expression of mirth, disgust, and dismay
Ask her if she’s aware that her teenage ennui and angst cause early wrinkles, poor muscle definition, and weight gain (it doesn’t necessarily, but I am an agent of chaos).
Then, tell her the way she processes emotions is basic, and her perpetual sneer is making her acne problem worse (also, not true, necessarily).
Enjoy popcorn as you drive her to therapy.
I’m not saying this is moral. But as a childless 40 year old uncle to teenage nieces and nephews with attitude problems, in the words of Michael Jordan, “Fuck them kids.”
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