And now for another rousing edition of Stuff I Hate.
Today’s topics are “Fascist Cars,” “I’m a Mom’ers,” and “Foie Gras”
Fascist Cars
I don’t like to be told what to do. I straight-out abhor being told what to do most of the time. So you can imagine my fury at being forced to sacrifice my freedom by my fascist car. I’m talking about how whenever I don’t put on my seatbelt I am then subjected to an incessant beeping noise until I finally relent to buckling up. Really Ford? I know this happens in a lot of new cars and I think it’s terrible. What if I’m feeling risky and want to put my fate in God’s hands a little bit. What If I can’t be bothered to buckle up because I’m just moving my car across the parking lot. What if I just plain don’t want to? As a mature, legal adult shouldn’t I be trusted to make that decision for myself?
Ford, are you saying that I am not smart or capable enough to make my own decisions regarding my own damn life?
Isn’t this precisely what our founding fathers protested against?
I guess I can respect this purely on a marketing level in that if you annoy people into buckling up that presumably means that less people will die behind the wheel of your vehicle and that equates to less bad PR.
But still, I consider it a violation of my first amendment rights and you will be hearing from my lawyer!
I’m a Mom’ers
This is a term I made up to describe mothers in cheesy TV commericals, and has thus expanded to include real moms. Unfortunately.
My hatred started with the commercials, though. Commercials for peanut butter, cleaning products, diaper cream, etc.
They always start with an attractive mom-looking lady attending to her precious children before turning to the camera and condescendingly uttering the words
“I’m a mom.”
The I’m a Mom’er will then go on to dispense wisdom on how this particular peanut butter product, household cleaning device, ass cream will help her precious children grow up to be better than your precious children all because of the particular product. And she knows whats best. Why? Because She’s a mom. I guess its particularly infuriating because these women define themselves exclusively by that title, and seem to want to be worshipped for it, to boot. What’s even more infuriating is how this phenomenon has extended to include real mothers, on self-righteous power trips for how unselfish, and patient they are.
As if becoming a Mom requires any special skills other than animal instinct and a working vadge. Yeah, yeah, I’m a brat. I’m not a mother and therefore are not privy to the special bond, sacredness, etc of child-rearing. My best friend is a mother though, and I can tell you that awesome mother though she may be, that is not her identity. And she still knows how to have a good time. And she would never buy Jif dammit.
Foie Gras
Duck Liver Paste. Foie Gras is the paste of Duck Liver. Technically it is the Duck Liver itself, but you’ll most often find it as a paste or a mousse, maybe even a gelatin. VOM.
It is a spreadable meat and I object on so many levels to spreadable meat products. Namely they are disgusting, and Foie Gras is no exception. My palate is not that refined I guess, I’m sorry French culinary geniuses but no.
I object to this on a humane level as well.
This one’s short, but there’s not that much I can do with duck liver paste.