I’ve been thinking a lot about why people make fun of people. I am as bad as most, sitting on my high horse, who is just a little higher than yours, and making cracks that are astute and a fair cop (hey i just learned that expression and have been dying to use it… not sure it’s accurate but whatever). i know in my heart i am funny… and astute. and usually accurate.
but that’s just it, isn’t it? what died and made me able to pass judgment on you? why do i feel like it’s ok for me to sit here and people watch and laugh hysterically at the woman across the street with the striped socks that make her look like halloween’s boxing day? and why do i feel like i’m so much more talented at the snark than the next guy, unless the next guy is John Stewart, who, let’s be fair, has a team of snarky writers and i have just me?
and what makes me saddest is that our words hurt hurt hurt. i dont care who you are or how much teflon you’re wearing, the whole sticks and stones thing sticks with you way past puberty. unlike the permed hair and the leg warmers. whatever is said is only a stone’s throw away from bullying which leads to terrorizing which leads to hate crimes which leads to the dark side.
so i wonder, what would it look like if we all agreed to stop making fun of each other?
yep, …. that’s about what it would look like.