Specifically, your opinion is that the former happened to other people while the latter happens to you, and that therefore the former is assigned a weighting factor of zero and the latter is assinged a weighting factor of infinity. Murder times zero is nothing; mild annoyance times infinity is infinite. QED.
Well, of course some things were better, could hardly help! Everybody else lost WW2, which means we won. As the surpassingly brilliant Weird With Words has pointed out, we were fucking rich, farting through the silk undies, world economy wise.
Our advocate for the cause of “civility”, ladies and gentlemen…
Oh I’m definitely that fat and gray-haired, but a biddy? Nah. A biddy implies a fussy “get-off-my-lawn” old lady who will talk your ear off about the most mundane things, and complain* about everyone and everything, someone who has plastic slipcovers on the living room furniture, none of which applies to me. A true biddy would not admire Diamanda Galas, listen to Kate Bush, be a huge Quentin Tarantino fan, or regularly go to midnight shows (like Harry Potter the other night, it was great too!). Your calling me a biddy was the most humorous thing about your meltdown.
Glad to hear it. I do reserve the right to continue to point out and snark about your foolishness in the future, when I feel so inclined.
- Edit to add, except the Republicans/right-wingers. I’ll complain/snark about them, always.
An interesting point. I wonder, does Starving Artist actually find his life miserable? I was always under the impression that he was at great pains to let us know how he leads a practically story-book existence. If it’s not his own misery he’s decrying, whose is it? Are these people made miserable by liberalism people he actually knows, or is he just constructing this from stuff he reads and half-remembers? Or is he maybe exaggerating just the tiniest bit?
I would expect no less. 