Writing short and stupid comments on Twitter has become the new blogging. Why burst into our busy lives to flesh out a real post when you can say everything that needs to be said in 140 characters? However, there are some thing that need to be explored further.
Quoth myself in two posts last night;
Men with arms around womens shoulders = sinister and sickening. I just saw one that nearly slipped into a headlock. Caveman behaviour!
To be fair it's not quite as putrid in a seated position. It's the mobile demonstration of dominance and control that makes me ralph
I stand by everything, except possibly the use of the term 'ralph'. It does make me secretly ill. At the risk of sounding like one of those Socialist Party twats who tries to get you to sign their farcical petitions on the corner of the Bourke Street (where have the last 6 years of petitions actually gone you idiots?), whenever I see this evil manoeuvre taking place I feel like equality has been set back twenty years.
You'd piss yourself laughing if you saw the girl with her arm around the guy, but somehow the reverse is acceptable. Write it up as a cute display of affection as much as you like, but it's nothing more than male ownership being demonstrated publicly. Fred Flintstone behaviour indeed. If you're female and you're into it then you're part of the problem. Even an arm around waist scenario is a million times more palatable, it's not the guy parading down Bourke Street with 'his' woman in a headlock in case some other Caveman tries to steal her. No wonder there's so much violence in the world, it makes me want to go into the streets and start liberating people - who almost certainly have no interest in freedom - by swinging a 5-iron around.
And when the guy is significantly taller and has to reach down to do it? My god. I saw one last night where you could barely see the poor girl's face. The girl's happy? I don't give a toss. Ecstasy users are happy too but they still get police sniffer dogs jumping up their leg.
Do what you have to do. Buy a puppie, buy matching cardigans, listen to Chris DeBurgh records and cry in each other arms. God forbid even get knocked up and start having kids if you must, but stand up and speak out against this gross indecency taking place in our streets.
(P.S - That's tipped it over into "Do you want to come to a public meeting about Karl Marx at Trades Hall" territory. Shit)