bloggers booze blues
Blog drinks tonight here in Wellington. Apart from being too broke, too tired, too disinterested and too apathetic, I've got no reason to go. And anyhow, I'm not the chatty type (unless you consider monologues 'chat'). Conversation? Ackk, I can't even be bothered responding to folks kind enough to leave blog comments. Truth is, I'm socially incompetent - thus, the blog. Were I a social butterfly, I'd be out swirling & mingling, chatting gaily away with fabulous frollicky friends, far from the tranquil solace of a computer. My theory is that all bloggers, to a degree, share this discomfort with real life folk and seek refuge in cyberspace.
Or maybe not. Perhaps I'm just a snob. And why not? Having no money shouldn't preclude haughty disdain for the masses. Who says you need wealth (or class) to look down your nose at people? Rich or poor, aristocratic arrogance is one's inalienable birthright (in my humble opinion). Besides, what could possibly make me wanna go out to meet, much less act civilised towards nitwit Helen Clark voters? I've got absolutely nothing to say to them - EVER! Nothing polite, anyway.
Unless... of course... they wanna pay for my drinks....
In which case, as a Maori, I'm always open for discussion with Treaty partners. What say you, Labourites? Fair's fair, right? Surely I don't have to remind you lefties (of all people!) about all those bad things your ancestors did to mine? Sheesh, what kind of guilty white liberals are you, anyway? Too stingey to shout me one piddly little beer? Heck, you stole my land, my culture, my language, my heritage...
I think that's worth at least a bottle of champagne.
ps - Would I be pushing my luck to ask for a bag of chips or some peanuts as well, while you're up at the bar?
pps - Don't forget to make that a magnum-size bottle of bubbly.
What? Implying I'm a bludger? Yes you are! You were about to call me a "dirty pimping freeloading Maori," weren't you? Well, if you're going to be RACIST about it, I don't think I'll bother going out after all.
Blog drinks tonight here in Wellington. Apart from being too broke, too tired, too disinterested and too apathetic, I've got no reason to go. And anyhow, I'm not the chatty type (unless you consider monologues 'chat'). Conversation? Ackk, I can't even be bothered responding to folks kind enough to leave blog comments. Truth is, I'm socially incompetent - thus, the blog. Were I a social butterfly, I'd be out swirling & mingling, chatting gaily away with fabulous frollicky friends, far from the tranquil solace of a computer. My theory is that all bloggers, to a degree, share this discomfort with real life folk and seek refuge in cyberspace.
Or maybe not. Perhaps I'm just a snob. And why not? Having no money shouldn't preclude haughty disdain for the masses. Who says you need wealth (or class) to look down your nose at people? Rich or poor, aristocratic arrogance is one's inalienable birthright (in my humble opinion). Besides, what could possibly make me wanna go out to meet, much less act civilised towards nitwit Helen Clark voters? I've got absolutely nothing to say to them - EVER! Nothing polite, anyway.
Unless... of course... they wanna pay for my drinks....
In which case, as a Maori, I'm always open for discussion with Treaty partners. What say you, Labourites? Fair's fair, right? Surely I don't have to remind you lefties (of all people!) about all those bad things your ancestors did to mine? Sheesh, what kind of guilty white liberals are you, anyway? Too stingey to shout me one piddly little beer? Heck, you stole my land, my culture, my language, my heritage...
I think that's worth at least a bottle of champagne.
ps - Would I be pushing my luck to ask for a bag of chips or some peanuts as well, while you're up at the bar?
pps - Don't forget to make that a magnum-size bottle of bubbly.
What? Implying I'm a bludger? Yes you are! You were about to call me a "dirty pimping freeloading Maori," weren't you? Well, if you're going to be RACIST about it, I don't think I'll bother going out after all.
4 comments:
Comments aren't a kindness - they are a treaty obligation ...and cheaper than champagne. I couldn't have shouted you anyway, not being there myself. I'd have had to drive myself home and the thought of facing such an ordeal sober is too much.
Screw the magnum. I'd hold out for a nebuchadnezzar, if I were you.
We should have included an article about not eating your treaty partners.
We never get ANY play on that one anymore.
Bloody Howard Morrison.
I am unnaturally shy too. If you didn't hate women so much, didn't spend so much time kissing sexist ass and posting hate-filled rants about Muslims and so forth I would like to have a drink with you.
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