You mean the generation that paid three times as much for college to enter a job market with triple the unemployment isn’t interested in purchasing the assets of the generation who just blew an enormous housing bubble and kept it from popping through quantitative easing and out-and-out federal support? Curious.
—When comments are better than the article, Atlantic edition (“The Cheapest Generation: Why Millennials aren’t buying cars or houses, and what that means for the economy”)
There’s a man. Imagine him. He’s leaning on a fence, shirtless and weary. He seems wise near the eyes but his impatient feet suggest insidiousness. He’s marked with dried mud and maybe some very deep but quickly healing cuts—from the tree branches, most likely, or perhaps the birds.
OK, I’m not telling you the whole truth—it was definitely the birds. Imagine these cuts and scratches, dried and brittle now, but tender to the touch. He is certain he did not offend the birds but he is uncertain whether his complacency was misconstrued as equal to said offence. Picture this. Picture the man leaning on the criss-crossing metal wires, waiting. The birds are gone—but other things are coming. He doesn’t know specifically what, but he knows it’ll come for him. You know this too, because I have told you. The man says… nothing.
There’s never not something that has been displaced, marginalised. There’s never not something that, when feeling pressed to the wall, to a place with no room left to run, gathers its numbers, gathers its forces, and turns savagely on its oppressor. Turns viciously, and without inhibition, even on those who merely look like its oppressor. Do you catch my meaning? Can you imagine the scene I am explaining? How much of the world makes sense to you? What does it mean to be a hero? To be a human?
The man thinks about his heart. It beats, it beats normally. Earlier, it did not beat normally. Think about your own heart. Is it beating normally?
Listen. I’ll give you a long moment.
How is your heart? Do you remember the man, the one on the fence, shirtless and scarred, with the normally beating heart? He’s not real.
Take him out of the story, but leave the story. Take him out. Leave the story.
Do you catch my meaning? Do you?
This has been traffic.
“We’re so bad at sex and then we wonder why women aren’t like, really aggressive about sex. We think it’s cause they don’t have as much desire as we do. That’s how stupid men are, that we think ‘they’re just weird, women are like fucked up in the head cause they don’t wanna just fuck all the time. If I was a women, I’d just fuck everybody. Why don’t they wanna fuck all the time? I do’. Of course you do, cause when you fuck, you get to fuck a woman! When she fucks, she has to fuck a guy! Wildly different experiences. For a man, 100% of the time, it’s the greatest thing that ever happened in his entire life. For a woman, about 40% of the time, when she’s being fucked by a guy, she’s thinking ‘I’ll get over this in a week. It’s not the worst thing. I’m not gonna cry this time’
“Another thing that proves how bad men are at sex is that after sex, you’re looking at two very different people. The man just wants to lay there, be cool and the woman wants to cuddle…’Why is she so NEEDY?’ She’s not needy you idiot, she’s horny, because you did nothing for her. YOU DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. HER PUSSY IS ON FIRE BECAUSE IT’S GONE UNFUCKED COMPLETELY. Of course you’re fine, you climbed on and went “KFHGSKG” and rolled off. And she’s on you because she’s like ‘WH-at SOMETHING ELSE HAS TO HAPPEN, THIS IS BULLSHIT!!” If you fuck a woman well, she will LEAVE YOU ALONE. ‘Thanks a lot buddy, zzzzz’”