Your Standards Are Holding You Back
Via Rafi, a peek into the world of Brooklyn hipsterdom, where the “unsung heroes of the new new left” – who are “culturally potent” and “extremely online” – gather at a loft party in search of love, and to announce how radical and fabulous they are:
The roster tonight is heavy on extremely online political-media types. The podcaster and performer Katie Halper tells me she’s a fourth-generation socialist from the Upper West Side who used to attend a summer camp once affiliated with a communist organisation called the International Workers Order… Nearby, Sarah Leonard, who, at 30, is a veteran of the lefty-journalism orbit, tells me she’s launching a Marxist-feminist glossy called Lux, named for Rosa Luxemburg.
We learn,
At least in Brooklyn, and the spiritual Brooklyns of America, calling yourself a socialist sounds sexier than anything else out there.
Yes, sexy socialism.
The guests of honour tonight are the creators of Red Yenta, a new DIY dating platform: Marissa Brostoff, 33, a grad student at CUNY, and Mindy Isser, 28, an organiser in Philly. “I was complaining about how socialist men don’t date socialist women and it really bothers me,” Isser says.
Now there’s a sentence. It seems that the ladies and gents who feel compelled to announce their revolutionary ambitions, and their pronouns, and various mental health issues, aren’t meeting quotas for finding each other attractive. Which is baffling, really, given the bait on offer:
Libertarian socialist (28, she/her) seeks similar (27-35, he/him) to join forces against non-consensual power dynamics (capitalism, white supremacy, etc.)
And,
Tall, tired communist seeking friends, casual dating… Likes: citrus fruit, weird music, using progressive stack to cut men off at meetings.
And,
38, he/him, likes women… Maoism and Star Trek.
Ms Isser’s indignation at the thought of socialist women being romantically shunned, even by fellow socialists, was aired in December in a Twitter howling session, during which extensive use was made of exclamation marks. After much exasperated rumbling, Ms Isser concluded that the fault must lie solely with men, and that “straight men are shallow and sexist even when they’re socialists.” Thereby proving that, contrary to legend, ladies of the left are in no way high-maintenance or difficult to please.
“Our politics reflect who we are!!!!!” said she, loudly. Which is rather the problem, I think.
Which is to say, it’s the problem of being a poseur and an insufferable narcissist in a room full of other poseurs and insufferable narcissists. The odds of finding anyone even half as fascinating as they find themselves must be quite slim.*
For those of you morbidly curious, yes, samples from the socialist-only dating platform can be savoured here. I leave it to readers to ponder the frequency with which the terms polyamory, open relationship and nonmonog occur.
Oh, and this:
The yentas aren’t aware of anyone who’s found love through their accounts yet.
Make of that what you will.
*Added via the comments.
Geez, David. This used to be a classy, well-managed joint.
That must’ve been before my time.
The reason there are no coasters is that David foolishly left us alone and we played Frisbee with the coasters, which, thus, are now being chewed and carried around by dogs all over London.
There are ALWAYS nuts around here. A few of them even came out of shells.
Bartender! Some Ephemera, please.
Bartender! Some Ephemera, please.
Compiled. Should materialise just after midnight.
The witching hour!
Thanks!
Are you sure those are all nuts on the floor ? Some of them are heading out the door, and are nuts supposed to have legs ?
Are you sure those are all nuts on the floor ?
Nuts on the floor? Floor nuts? Because of course if nuts on the wall are called walnuts, and nuts on a chest are called chestnuts…
The question is, are they hot nuts?
(David’s going to stick his head in the door any minute and yell at us to behave.)
As long as we’re misbehaving…
https://www.independent.co.uk/environment/nature/comb-jelly-anus-jellyfish-transient-gut-study-a8810526.html?fbclid=IwAR37-tl20oL8bLgDbPcvWL0XsBTaTS7we4v_EXdpTXVJBL418hvND4ATEK8
Suuuure he “stumbled upon” it. Probably placed a weird personal ad.
Well, the pickled “eggs” are giggling louder than ever, so I guess we’d better resume pretending decorum before David comes in waving his spatula and yelling at us to settle down.
You pickled “eggs,” that was NOT what I meant by “waving his spatula.” Cease your disreputable giggling!
*grumble* *grumble* *grumble*. doggone jar of little preeverts *grumble*. in a respectable establishment * grumble* *grumble*
I can even see beer mugs on tables with NO COASTERS.
David, aren’t coasters called something else in England?
I can even see beer mugs on the table with something else.
I think they are called “coasters,” as that’s what David’s always telling us to use. (Hope springs eternal.)
I’d swear I read some other term, maybe in a Terry Pratchett novel.
I have a Terry Pratchett in the stack somewhere.
Seems like every time I want to read something funny, I head back to Bertie and Jeeves, which is why poor Terry languishes unread.
“U can’t spell BDSM w/out BDS!” begins one.
This rather does make me want to reach for a bullwhip.
How about “when school children drank booze with lunch”?
David, aren’t coasters called something else in England?
Finally remembered it: “beer mats”.
“He tossed a couple of mats on the table and put their drinks down…She lifted her beer mat carefully and glanced at the underside…”
Finally remembered it: “beer mats”.
Beer mats are cheap cardboard things. Ours are much classier.
“when school children drank booze with lunch”
If I recall correctly, in “Wine and War” the Kladstrups say that the daily wine ration was critical to the morale of French soldiers.
For the British it was, of course, beer and rum.
“The King, God Bless him”: