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Tuesday Hatred: You can’t, like, own a motor-coach

I hate allergies. Snot dripping out of every pore. Sneezes following which one must simply sneeze again. Red, watery eyes. So what else is new.

Perhaps because my life is low in face-to-face as well as telephonic conversation, I have an insatiable desire and tendency to engage in internet-mediate conversation, not, I mean, via that most public method of blog comments, nor that most asynchronous method of email, but via the more or less private, more or less synchronous method of IMing. However there are only a few people with whom I so converse. I hate: (a) that some people with whom I used more often to converse thus, I now seem to be unable to hail; (b) the ineradicable suspicion that I am mostly making a nuisance of myself (which suspicion, having calcified into conviction, in one case caused me to remove a thitherto conversation partner from my “list”); (c) the generally unsatisfactory nature of this ersatz (not fake, but at least replacement) medium.

I hate it when people are wrong in philosophy departments.

This is more FAC than TH territory, but I’ll mention it here because it inspires me to that most familiar and, well, boring kind of hatred, hatred of self. Actually, there’s no point in getting into specifics here (especially as I don’t particularly want to be specific enough for anyone to know what I’m on about)—let’s just leave that I have experienced hatred of self with regard to a familiar topic. Also envy—and lust.

I hate peeling tongues. It seems as if it is only not a hassle if the tongue is definitely overcooked. I hate the paucity of cafes in my vicinity that are open past seven fucking o’clock, and rain.

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April 20, 2010 - Posted by | Tuesday Hatred

19 Comments

  1. I hate allergies as well — it’s like my entire life is covered in a film of annoyance. I hate that my attempt to get ahead of the curve with class prep seems to have resulted in me feeling overwhelmed.

    Comment by Adam Kotsko | April 20, 2010

  2. I always thought of it as allergies hating me. I hate it if you, over & over again , correctly stereotype me, even if I am almost completely sure you don’t know me.

    Comment by JoB | April 20, 2010

  3. The thing I hate about IM conversations is how they take a back seat to whatever the person is doing. For me, it usually goes like this.

    You see they’re online and throw them some clever line. They respond (or not) and some back and forth starts, but they were probably online because they were doing something else and therefore the conversation is very hit or miss as they give that something else priority over the IM conversation.

    Invariably, the conversation ends abruptly and without explanation right after I get around to making a request for information I actually need or care about as opposed to just time killing chatter.

    Comment by Matt in Toledo | April 20, 2010

  4. I am trying to parse that last paragraph in such a way as to come to some interpretation other than the one that involves Ben eating tongue.

    Comment by stras | April 20, 2010

  5. Tongue is tasty, stras.

    Comment by ben | April 20, 2010

  6. As I former deli worker, I hate tongue with all my heart and with all my soul and with all my strength and with all my mind.

    Comment by stras | April 20, 2010

  7. Also, I have never seen anyone buy tongue who was not a curmudgeonly septuagenarian. I note now that I have never seen a photograph of this young and sprightly “Ben Wolfson.” Everything is clicking into place.

    Comment by stras | April 20, 2010

  8. I could also be an immigrant from Mexico or points south.

    Comment by ben | April 20, 2010

  9. You could, so you are not – I just knew that conversational implicature would come in handy one day.

    Comment by JoB | April 20, 2010

  10. I don’t think it holds. In contexts like this “could” can express epistemic possibility—imagine a prepended “for all you know”.

    Comment by ben | April 20, 2010

  11. Sadly, google image search for “Ben Wolfson” no longer draws results as tangy as it once did.

    I really enjoyed tongue the last time I ate it, which was 1992 or thereabouts. I remember its texture well. The same professor was teaching Modern Social Theory and Anthropology. For an assignment, he had the students in the former class create a meal comprising all elements available in Europe before discovery, and the students in the latter use only ingredients found in the Americas before Europeans arrived. Tongue was prepared–braised?–by some of my MST classmates.

    Ever since then, whenever contemplating a slicing instrument, I have compulsively imagined it slicing my own tongue. This happens every time I encounter a deli slicer, and often with new knives.

    I hate that in the first draft of par. 2 above I wrote “Anthropologie” before correcting it.

    Comment by K-sky | April 20, 2010

  12. The same professor? As the one whose tongue you ate?

    a meal comprising all elements available in Europe before discovery

    Only elements, I hope.

    Comment by ben | April 20, 2010

  13. I’m sorry, I forgot I was dealing with an immigrant from Mexico or points south.

    Comment by K-sky | April 20, 2010

  14. Resolved: “immigrant from Mexico or points south” is the new “little bitch”. However, you have to admit that saying “the same professor” as you did is confusing.

    Comment by ben | April 20, 2010

  15. I’m sure it doesn’t hold. It is after all an implicature, & not an entailment. If you would be ‘an immigrant of Mexico, or points South’ you would be expected to have said: ‘could be an immigrant of Canada or points North’ or some such but not what you actually were because if you would be what you said you were there was no point in making any comment that fell short of actually saying: ‘No, I am not what you say I am’. Capice?

    Comment by JoB | April 20, 2010

  16. What doesn’t hold is the claim that there’s an implicature there at all.

    Comment by ben | April 20, 2010

  17. One doesn’t control one’s implicatures; but I am not saying it was intended. For all I know you could be a US immigrant into Bolivia.

    Comment by JoB | April 20, 2010

  18. I hate the holds that my bank puts on seemingly everything, including payroll direct deposit.

    Comment by Adam Kotsko | April 20, 2010

  19. I hate when I forget about Tuesday Hatred.

    I hate that I had my first balding dream a few nights ago. It’s surprising that it came so late, given that I’ve been anxious about losing hair ever since I discovered years ago that my maternal grandfather was bald in his mid-twenties. I also hate “teeth falling out or shattering” dreams, though I haven’t had one in months.

    I hate when I get in bed early, in preparation for a busy tomorrow, only to roll around for three hours, even after counting sheep, modifying my breathing, and employing all kinds of muscle relaxation tricks. Perhaps it was that one swig of caffeinated diet Pepsi I took at 5pm. Indulgences, what did I expect.

    I love that my allergies seem nonexistent, at least so far this year. Could I have outgrown them? I would love that so very much.

    Comment by Yrruk | April 21, 2010


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