Bleeargh!
We're all conformists. It's just a question of, "To what degree do we conform?"
(Yes, I know I'm paraphrasing Ron White. Shut up.)
The next time some dude goes all Avril Lavigne on you about hating conformity, I recommend you do this:
RICH WHITE YUPPIE ASSHOLE: I'm an individual, with individual thoughts, and individual clothes, and individual...individualicity! Bleaargh!!"
YOU: No you're not. And here's why.
Where do you live?
RICH WHITE YUPPIE ASSHOLE: In a house. Where the fuck else would I live, conformist?
YOU: "You mean like, a shed, or a lean-to with broken windows, or something?"
RICH WHITE YUPPIE ASSHOLE: No stupid, a house. A house house.
YOU: Oh, right. And that's somewhere, like, down by the railroad tracks, or by the mine shaft, or down the street from the abandoned hospital?
RICH WHITE YUPPIE ASSHOLE: "Fuck no! I live in Sterling. Conformist!"
YOU: "Oh. Well, uh...Nice Nine Inch Nails shirt you got there."
RICH WHITE YUPPIE ASSHOLE: "It's a symbol of my individualness, fag. Bleargh!"
It won't get you anywhere, but you'll have a good laugh at the goth-wannabe poser in front of you. I highly recommend it.
(I'm so sorry. I'm not creative.)
posted by B.C. @ 12:07 AM
2 comments
2 Comments:
Ah... NIN shirts... the Snake Skin Jacket of the 00s.
Though, I do like some NIN. Kinda bugs me that little snots come along and make the image of a band so annoying that I can't listen to them while doing my math without getting lobbed into a group I'm not.
Way I look at it, true individuality is doing something and not giving a shit about what people think about it. Few people fit that bill these days, at least in this country.
Not that you'll see me sporting a black shirt or tattoos anytime soon.
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