Last week, we ran staffers’ nominations for shitty things of 2017 that should stay in 2017. Because we are bad at organization, we left out some things. Here they are.
Being neither a sovereign nor a pope, I’ve never had trouble keeping track of how many of me there are. Pay any attention at all, though, and you’ll notice that a lot of people either are having trouble with this or are speaking not only for themselves but for God, or the Commonwealth, or, more usually, everyone—me, presumably, included.
As I can only assume many people do, I keep a running list of examples of this, if just to keep track of all the things I’ve apparently been thinking and doing that I wasn’t aware of. This is how I can tell you that I have been living, with you, in a “house of outrage”; that like you, I lust for avocados without pits; that my life has, like yours, been shaped by breaking-news alerts over the last year even though I don’t get them on my phone; that I don’t ask the tough questions and resent those who outperform, outwork, and outproduce me, just as you don’t and do; and that I am, like you, attempting to wring whatever contact high I can from Game of Thrones while it lasts. There are many other things you and I seem to have thought and done of which I wasn’t aware until I read about them, though perhaps you were.
There are times when I think it would be a good idea to adopt the habit of ascribing everything about me to everyone who might possibly read anything I write. (“We need to do better about eating leftovers for lunch instead of just letting them sit in the refrigerator,” I might proclaim, “and make an appointment with the optometrist at Modern Eye in West Philadelphia, where we live, instead of putting it off.”) In the end, though—and surely you feel the same way—it seems presumptuous to impute one’s own opinions, prejudices, bad habits, and resentments to the entire rest of the world, however doubtless accurately. We should probably keep not doing so, especially those of us who are. - Tim Marchman
This was, in years past, my favorite blurb to write because it seemed the perfect Deadspin post. While everyone else wanted to tell you how great the year was, how thankful you should be, Deadspin was here to remind you that sometimes things suck, life isn’t always fair, and the bad guys win. And then this year happened.
I have struggled so much because what did I not want to die this year? I want sexual harassment to die. I want all workplace harassment to die. I want rape to end. I want people who say, “I believe all people who report rape but in this case...” to disappear. I want murderers to stop murdering. While we’re throwing out pipe dreams, I’d like systemic racism to die too. Also, Nazis. Nazis can die.
But what I hope dies most is the horrible heartache this year has brought to too many damn good people. - Diana Moskovitz
Oh, and the crippling angst that comes with knowing the center cannot hold, and that all of the corruption and anger and visceral hatred that come with living in Trump’s America will finally explode in a horrifying moment of unthinkable tragedy greater than any we’ve lived through to this point. That tension is something I’d like to see go away, yes. - Drew Magary
I don’t care that you wish you knew how to help, or that you consider yourself a feminist ally, or that you’re starting to feel guilty about watching the NFL or Woody Allen movies, or that you never intended things to work out this way, or that you totally agree that there should be more women in positions of power, or that it’s so unlike you or completely against your current values to have done whatever it you’ve done, or that you hope the situation will be magically ameliorated soon. And by “you” I mean “men.” - Hannah Keyser