Category: Two-Minute Hate

Disgusting People

As I Said

Culture, Two-Minute Hate

Longtime Readers will know of my loathing for modernist architecture — the squared-off, ugly and unfriendly style which resembles nothing as much as large cubes of concrete stacked on top of each other.  Specifically, my ire has been directed towards the brutalist works of Swiss designer Le Corbusier who, if there is any justice in the world, is spending eternity revolving slowly on a spit in a room where the temperature has been set to “Broil”.

But lest anyone think I’m just being petulant about this asshole, allow me to point you to an older article by Theodore Dalrymple, who lays out Le Corbusier’s works and his philosophy about society.  Here’s an excerpt:

I spoke of the horrors of Le Corbusier’s favorite material, reinforced concrete, which does not age gracefully but instead crumbles, stains, and decays. A single one of his buildings, or one inspired by him, could ruin the harmony of an entire townscape, I insisted. A Corbusian building is incompatible with anything except itself.

And:

Le Corbusier wanted architecture to be the same the world over because he believed that there was a “correct” way to build and that only he knew what it was.
…
A terminal inhumanity—what one might almost call “ahumanity”—characterizes Le Corbusier’s thought and writing, notwithstanding his declarations of fraternity with mankind. This manifests itself in several ways, including in his thousands of architectural photos and drawings, in which it is rare indeed that a human figure ever appears, and then always as a kind of distant ant, unfortunately spoiling an otherwise immaculate, Platonic townscape. Thanks to his high-rise buildings, Le Corbusier says, 95 percent of the city surface shall become parkland—and he then shows a picture of a wooded park without a single human figure present. Presumably, the humans will be where they should be, out of sight and out of mind (the architect’s mind, anyway), in their machines for living in (as he so charmingly termed houses), sitting on machines for sitting on (as he defined chairs).
This ahumanity explains Le Corbusier’s often-expressed hatred of streets and love of roads. Roads were impressive thoroughfares for rushing along at the highest possible speed (he had an obsession with fast cars and airplanes), which therefore had a defined purpose and gave rise to no disorderly human interactions. The street, by contrast, was unpredictable, incalculable, and deeply social. Le Corbusier wanted to be to the city what pasteurization is to cheese.

The only possible reaction to this monstrous philosophy should be horror.  That is hasn’t been, and instead has fostered a long line of copycat architects and town planners, is the reason Le Corbusier should be roasting.

Earlier on, Dalrymple compares Le Corbusier to Lenin in his malevolence towards humanity in general;  I would say that while Lenin killed more actual people, Le Corbusier has  destroyed the souls of more cities and the spirits of the people who live and work in them.

It says much about UNESCO that seventeen of his buildings have been designated World Heritage Sites by that foul organization.  Here’s one, by way of illustration:

Pass me the dynamite, Sheldon.

And speaking of dynamite, I should save a little for the Huffington Post  if for no other reason than because of their breathless lionization of this monster.  Not that anyone should ever read anything in HuffPo, but should you want to see more architectural monstrosities, said article contains lots of examples of his work, all of which should make you recoil in horror.  I couldn’t bear to publish more than one;  they’re not so discriminating, the poxy little Marxists.  Huffpo marvels at Le Corbusier’s influence on the modern world;  so do I, but I regard it more in the same perspective as that of the Black Plague on the medieval period.

I CAN’T HEAR YOU

Food & Drink, Two-Minute Hate

Somebody note the date:  I agree almost completely with The Atlantic magazine, at least as far as this article is concerned (thankee, Insty), and I urge you to read it all, if you have the time:

Restaurants are so loud because architects don’t design them to be quiet.  Much of this shift in design boils down to changing conceptions of what makes a space seem upscale or luxurious, as well as evolving trends in food service.  Right now, high-end surfaces connote luxury, such as the slate and wood of restaurants including The Osprey in Brooklyn or Atomix in Manhattan.
This trend is not limited to New York.  According to Architectural Digest, mid-century modern and minimalism are both here to stay.  That means sparse, modern decor;  high, exposed ceilings; and almost no soft goods, such as curtains, upholstery, or carpets.  These [minimalist] design features are a feast for the eyes, but a nightmare for the ears.  No soft goods and tall ceilings mean nothing is absorbing sound energy, and a room full of hard surfaces serves as a big sonic mirror, reflecting sound around the room.

Now add over-loud “background” music to the clamor as well as noisy patrons (Americans are a loud-spoken bunch at the best of times), and it’s enough to make me order soup just so I can drink it through a straw while holding my hands over my ears.

I’ve bitched about this trend in the past, but mostly to complain about the music selection (tinny pop pablum or bass-heavy rap/R&B).  But last week I had breakfast with Doc Russia in some new (and overpriced) breakfast place, and in a room which contained maybe six paying customers (out of over fifty seats), the noise was so bad (hard surfaces plus loud music) that I longed for my shooting lids.

Come to think of it, I think I’ll start carrying my ear protection with me when I go out from now on, and put them on if the place is too noisy.  My lids are noise-sensitive (with the little volume adjustment thingies on the side) so they are perfectly adequate for conversation.  I will, however, shout loudly at the waiter when ordering my food;  what the fuck, the restaurant clearly doesn’t mind excessive noise, right?

I’m sounding a little flippant about this, but I’m not joking at all.  As it is, my tinnitus makes hearing occasionally difficult, but impossibly-so in a loud environment.

Don’t get me started on “mid-century modern and minimalism; sparse, modern decor; high, exposed ceilings; stainless-steel tabletops, slate-tile floors, and exposed ductwork; and sparse and sleek [decor], with hardwood floors and colorful Danish chairs with tapered legs seated beside long, light-colored wood tables”.  A less inviting scenario for a meal I can’t even begin to imagine.  And please:  don’t give me that crap about how hard surfaces are easier to clean and to keep clean:  that’s putting the needs of the business ahead of those of its customers, which mistake should cause the business to fail quickly — but sadly, that doesn’t seem to be the case here, I suspect because we’ve just become accustomed to the clamor.

The article has it right:

The result is a loud space that renders speech unintelligible.  Now that it’s so commonplace, the din of a loud restaurant is unavoidable.  That’s bad for your health—and worse for the staff who works there.  But it also degrades the thing that eating out is meant to [engender]:  a shared social experience that rejuvenates, rather than harms, its participants.

Considering that I go out to eat with friends or family where the primary motivation is social — conversation and companionship — and the food (no matter how fine) a distant second, it should come as no surprise that over time, I have become less and less likely to eat out.

In fact, strike the above thought about taking hearing protection when going out.  In future, I’ll walk into the restaurant and if the clamor is overpowering, I’ll just tell the restaurateur:   “Sorry, but your place is too noisy.  I’m going somewhere quieter.”  And please note that I’m not talking about a restaurant full of people having a good time:  that’s a different situation altogether.  But if the place is noisy because everyone has to scream to make themselves heard over the cacophonous ambiance, then it’s elsewhere I’ll be going.

If enough people follow my example, then maybe — just maybe — we can reverse this bullshit trend whereby function doesn’t just follow form;  it throws it to the floor and suffocates it, noisily.

And by the way:  fuck “mid-century” and “minimalism”.

Censors And Their Censoring Ways

Freaks & Loonies, Two-Minute Hate

Aaaaaargh FFS I’m just about to explode with rage over here.  Why?  Because the Language Police are out in force, trying to circumscribe my speech yet again, but this time from another direction.

It’s bad enough that I can’t say the words “snigger” or “blackball” without some fucking snowflake or race hustler getting triggered and calling me Worse Than Hitler — we’re all familiar with that form of PC regulation.

Guess who’s next?

Here’s the list of ‘helpful’ suggestions from PETA for teachers to use with their pupils instead of the current ‘harmful’ phrases. It recommends:

  • ‘Let the cat out of the bag’ is changed to ‘Spill the beans’
  • ‘Be a guinea pig’ to ‘Be the test tube’
  • ‘Hold your horses’ to ‘Hold the phone’
  • ‘Open a can of worms’ to ‘Open Pandora’s box’
  • ‘Bring home the bacon’ to ‘Bring home the bagels’
  • ‘Put all your eggs in one basket’ to ‘Put all your berries in one bowl’
  • ‘Kill two birds with one stone’ to ‘Feed two birds with one scone’
  • ‘Take the bull by the horns’ to ‘Take the flower by the thorns’
  • ‘Flog a dead horse’ to ‘Feed a fed horse’
  • ‘More than one way to skin a cat’ to More than one way to peel a potato’

Now the fucking vegans have to get involved in language?  Great Caesar’s bleeding hemorrhoids, isn’t there any  part of my life which can escape the censure of these bastard busybodies?

[deep breath]

I think the best thing I can do (apart from some activity involving an AK-47 and a few Molotov cocktails) is to offer up some suggestions which escaped the above list, but that we may use just to antagonize these pricks a little further:

  • Bleeding the lizard (male urination)
  • Choking the chicken (male masturbation)
  • Spearing the bearded clam (shagging)
  • Harpooning a whale (fucking a fat chick — a twofer, because body-shaming)
  • Bonking a buffalo (ditto)
  • Poking a panther (fucking a Black chick)
  • Tonguing the trout (cunnilingus)
  • Eating an eel (fellatio)
  • Playing with the puppies (fondling a woman’s breasts)
  • …and all the expressions involving the word “pussy”, e.g. pussyfooting.

If anyone has any other suggestions, go at it in Comments.  I’m too angry to think.

No I’m not:  I think I’ll go and roast me a leg of lamb for dinner.

Here’s the source:

In fact, this may be our best revenge on these gastronomic Puritans:  every time you read something about vegans that pisses you off, make yourself a meat dish for dinner.  Or go completely overboard at lunchtime:

*I should point out that “Open Pandora’s box”  is probably offensive to some feministicals because of its quasi-sexual connotation, but I’ll let them fight it out with the vegans, preferably with nuclear weapons so we can have a little mutually-assured destruction.

Okay, that thought put a smile back on my face.

Belief Systems Bullying

Two-Minute Hate

This article by Janet Street-Porter triggered me, and I’ve decided that I’ve had enough of people attempting to foist their pathetic belief systems and accompanying lifestyle choices on to me.  Let me count these irritants off.

Religion:
Fucking Christians and their oh-so virtuous need for evangelizing — like everyone needs to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior — give me the cramps.  There are the Morons Mormon’s polite “elders” ringing my doorbell to hand me a pamphlet so that they can attempt to debate me — with all the acquired wisdom of their adolescent experience to back them up — about some fucking bullshit dreamed up by some asshole who was thrown out of somewhere — justifiably, in my opinion — in the fond belief that I’m suddenly going to See The Light and become a member of their foul little sect… fuck off and leave me alone.  Then there are the other Christians who try to convince me that I will find God’s Peace by doing whatever and being “born again” — do you realize how insane you sound, you pious fools?  Do you not realize that spiritual peace is an intensely personal matter, and your attempt to intrude on what is the most intimate of individual thoughts is about the most arrogant action anyone can perform?  Don’t even get me started on the missionaries, who quite frankly all need to suffer the same fate as that tool who tried to bring Jesus Christ to the inhabitants of North Sentinel Island, and got turned into archery practice.  The problem with Christianity today is that it needs more martyrs — probably a few million of the most evangelical ones, starting with that Marxist asshole in the Vatican and ending up by blowing through the leaders of the “mega-churches” like Sherman through Georgia.  Good grief, am I the only one who is repelled by the insufferable smugness of the martyr complex?
But if the Christians need a few million martyrs, the Muslims need about a hundred million of them — preferably by some global mass suicide (not by bombing, just the razors-in-a-bathtub kind) — with said suicide being confined to the most extremist of them.  Christians try to convert non-believers with nauseating syrupy promises, but at least they don’t try to kill you when you tell them to fuck off (well, not anymore, anyway).  Muslims, on the other hand, never having left the 9th century in their outlook and behavior, are quite prepared to kill non-believers and apostates, because in their arrogance, they believe that unless you’re a Muslim, you don’t deserve to live.  As attitude goes, they’re an order of magnitude worse than modern-day Christians.  And if Muslims don’t want to commit mass suicide, then what we need is some very old-fashioned Christians — let’s call ’em, oh, Crusaders — who can set about killing Muslims for being the evil assholes that they are.  In the immortal words of Henry Kissinger talking about Sunnis slaughtering Shiites and vice versa:  “It’s a pity that one side has to win.”  So mote it be with today’s Crusaders and Saracens.

Animal-worshipers:
By now, everyone should know who I’m talking about here.  Whether it’s the PETA types who throw cans of paint over people wearing furs, or the insufferable militant vegans who think it’s quite okay to invade restaurants and start haranguing diners about the eeeevils of meat-eating, my suggestion is that they should all eat about a pound of Romaine lettuce from that poxy farm in California.  Let me tell you:  if some shit-for-brains threw paint all over my wife’s $10,000 mink coat, I’d catch the fucker and make him or her drink the rest of the paint in the bucket.  As for the vegan protesters, they’d get a (pre-chewed) mouthful of meat spat all over them, followed by a fist-clubbing such as experienced by baby seals, just so that they can become as one with the cutesy wickle animals they glorify, and  feeeel their pain with them.  “It’s not food, it’s violence!”  they scream.  Hmph.  Let me introduce you to the concept of real violence, you self-centered little shits.

Marxists:
By now, everyone knows that Marxism / Socialism / Communism has been proven to be an abject failure — probably the worst failure of all socio-economic systems ever devised by Man — in every place it’s been tried.  But then there’s the (again) insufferable arrogance of these bastards, who truly think that they know what’s best for you, and you can’t make your own decisions because you’re inferior to them, the Enlightened Ones.  And FFS, how can anyone espouse a philosophy in which the outcomes — no matter how awful — are irrelevant as long as the intentions are “noble”?  It’s almost the classic example of narcissism.  And just like the Muslim assholes (see above), Marxist assholes are perfectly willing to harm you if you don’t fall into line with their twisted little belief system.  I’d suggest a course of mass suicide for Marxists as well, except that their arrogance would tend to make them try and kill us non-believers first (again, just like Muslims), so we’d probably be better off waging war on them (like Crusaders) and knocking them off by the various means they’ve used on others in the past.  (I was going to add some illustrations at this point, but we’ve all seen the pictures of Babi-Yar and the modern-day Chinese mass executions.)

Whether religious, dietary or political extremists, therefore, my message to all of you is quite simple:  leave me the hell alone.  And if you foolishly believe that you can “convert” me to your side or prevent me living my life on my own terms by some means of terror, coercion, bullying or shaming, allow me to say quite simply:  “Wind, meet whirlwind.”

Enough is enough.

Fucking Morons

Two-Minute Hate

Headline:

Black Friday fever spreads across the world: Carnage breaks out in stores as shoppers clamber over each other to get a bargain

Response (from Reader Old Texan):

“If you get up early and go out to spend money you don’t have, on crap
you don’t need, just because it is marked down oh so low, you’re an idiot.”

This bullshit started in the United States because the Friday after Thanksgiving supposedly marks the beginning of the Christmas* shopping season.  Now even countries who don’t celebrate Thanksgiving (i.e. every country not the United States) are in thrall to this hysteria.  What a bloody shambles.

*and yes, it’s Christmas, not the fucking “holidays”.

Socially Unacceptable

Two-Minute Hate

It’s a good thing I don’t live in New York [list of 20,000 reasons omitted for brevity].  Here’s another one:

Brooklyn Borough President Eric Adams and state Sen. Kevin Palmer’s proposal would allow authorities to review three years of social media history and one year of internet search history of any person seeking to purchase a firearm.

As any fule kno, I don’t have a “social media” presence in the ummm traditional sense.  However, if that “presence” were to include this here blog, I’d probably be disqualified from buying a gun for the next three lifetimes — which is no doubt what these rodents are after anyway.

That said, I will admit that I don’t have too much need for moar guns, e.g.:

Okay, I’ll admit that I don’t have all those guns anymore — just enough to frighten New York politicians.  Fuck them.