Andrew Jones, of Tallskinnykiwi fame wrote this witty and insightful post. I thought it was interesting since today at lunch as my friends mentioned various cities I tossed back my favorite restaurants in each.
I love poor people and spend most of my time with them.
But
poor people bug me with the amount of DOGS they have. The greater their poverty, the more dogs they adopt. The dogs are always larger than they should be and they are always mean. In fact, the meanness of the dogs is proportional to the poverty of their owners.
I love rich people and I couldn't work in social enterprise without their support.
But
rich people bug me most when they boast about finding the best restaurant. Name a city and they immediately tell you the best place to eat, as they puff up like a peacock and pride themselves on their discovery. The degree of restaurant-boasting is proportional to the obscurity of the city. Hey - finding a restaurant is nothing to boast about. Learn to cook something fabulous and then boast about that!
I love non-Western countries and spend most of my time in them.
But
non-Western countries bug me most when they mess with their jeans. They just cant leave a pair of jeans alone. They have to add extra pockets and extra zips and little strips of fabric. Then they make up a stupid western sounding name and put 17 labels on it. The amount of junk on non-western jeans is proportional to the geographical distance to the west. Hey come on! Jeans look best when minimal. The more stuff you add to a pair of jeans, the less value. Just make a simple pair of jeans and leave them alone for all our sakes!
I love Western countries and I grew up in them.
But
Western countries bug me when they destroy a pair of jeans and try to charge me more money for them. They wash them with stones and razor blades. They beat the crap out of them and think they are doing me a favor. The extent to which a pair of jeans is forcibly decimated is proportional to the high price. The more holes, the more money. Hey - I can wear out my own jeans. Really.
No comments:
Post a Comment