5 takes inspired by Fran Lebowitz

Monday, December 13

By Paloma Doti

Opinions should be respected. So when someone says that Trump was elected by millions of people who could not possibly all be idiots, one would try to find a lukewarm response, in which one does not offend the person who believes this and in which one also does not betray their own ideals. Usually we avoid responding to the question with an abrupt change of subject that puts the awkward moment behind us. Then we are careful, and think in detail every word, avoiding saying government, politics, xenophobia, machismo, orange skin or anything else that would cause us to remember the conversation about Trump and that would cause us to have to answer the question. That is what most of us would do and more so when we are on television. But not Fran Lebowitz, a New Yorker who, when faced with an interviewer who said that not all of the millions who voted for Trump could be idiots, concisely and elegantly simply replied, "Why not?"                                                                                                                           
The writer and opinionator doesn't know the definition of fear, lies or political correctness. She believes that sport is a method of torture, wonders where runners run to, hates writing and dedicates herself to it, loves to sleep, recommends thinking before talking and reading before thinking and advises parents to ask their son what he wants for dinner only if he invites them. In her books, her documentary and her interviews, she finds ingenious ways to classify the universe and understand people. Taxative and observant, she is so brutally honest that she makes us come to two conclusions, either she lacks ́"good education" or others lack honesty.                        
That's why in this article I'm going to say 5 very honest random opinions, of which I'm not going to accept any criticism of, proving that the problem is how much of a liar we are and not how politically incorrect Fran is. I'm going to put on my brown-framed glasses, cut my hair to ear length, find a jacket with big shoulder pads and let the little Fran Lebowitz in my brain that I never let out in public, write.  

 There are two types of people in this world. The stupid and the not so stupid.  Those who prefer sports and those who prefer literature. Those who prefer Back to the Future II and those who prefer Back to the Future I. Those who wear their mask under their nose and those who wear it correctly. Many people don´t know how to recognize which people are good and which people are bad. The pandemic brought us many problems, but also a great solution. The answer to that is simply to look at how they wear their masks. If they leave it on the border between the nose and the mouth or if they think the virus has nightmares with the mere presence of a dirty fabric they have been wearing since February 2020 placed over the lips, this person is not only foolish but also vile because it puts us all in the situation of having to see it. Seeing someone banging their head against a wall or a glass door they didn't see is even less embarrassing. Putting your mask on like that, makes your nose grow six sizes bigger, and without being able to see the rest of your face, all I can think of when I think of you is a giant nose with two bulging eyes at the extremities. So in addition to dumb and vile, people who wear their mask wrongly automatically become ugly. In conclusion, instead of spending money on cosmetic surgeons, bibles with rules on how to be good and ivy league universities, it is enough to simply wear your mask correctly

 There are murderers and thieves, but no criminal should have a prison sentence as long as those who dare to put the milk before the cereal. When you put the milk after putting the cereal at the bottom of the bowl, you are doing the cereal a favor. They were at the bottom, without seeing the light, and when you put the milk in, little by little, they come to the surface, and now they know not only the inside of the bowl, but also the ceiling of the kitchen, expanding their world. On the other hand, when we throw them into the milk, they see everything quickly, while they are abandoned and fall into the depths of the container, hidden in the darkness of the bowl.  Some float, others are buried under the milk and no spoon is enough to save them in time, before they are wrinkled and soft, losing the crunchiness of their youth. So putting the cereal in earlier is tastier, and it is an act of humanity. Putting it in later is cereal murder.                                                                                                              

Dear standup guys, how ugly you are is not as terrible as the fact that you talk about it for 40 minutes straight and charge for tickets. Three racist jokes, a sexist one, another one about fat mothers-in-law, a joke about how a woman hasn't touched the standup guy and about how he hasn´t  smelled a female spices in three years that actually isn´t a joke and three anti-semitic comments to top it all off. My drunk uncle should tell the jokes he tells at Christmas and maybe then at the holidays he could give me something more than a punchline about how I have to make him a sandwich because I'm a woman. Actually it's all a cover-up for a dark truth and that is that we rent places to laugh.  And we rent places to laugh with short, fat males who in 10 years are going to be bald or to laugh with skinny, too tall and with a lot of curls males, illuminated on a stage. Actually, the jokes are the excuse to laugh at them. And since they are anti-Semitic, sexist and fat-phobic, we don't feel so guilty about it.                                                                                                 

No, you can't be proud of getting a tattoo of the boa that eats the elephant in The Little Prince. If at the beginning of the book it explicitly explains what it means, then there is nothing profound in the tattoo. And no, you can't be proud of being 40 years old and still consider yourself a child.                                                                                                              

I don't consider myself a fashion icon. I write this while wearing a dirty mustard stained t-shirt and wrinkled shorts, with a bun that was made so long ago that it's dying of gravity. However, I consider myself to be better than others. Even as I notice coffee stains on parts of the shirt where there shouldn't be coffee stains, I can claim that I'm better than those who wear jeans and fluro running shoes.  It's like mixing potato chips with jam. It's two different worlds. Either you assume you're a sportsman or you assume you're a civilized person. But if you decide to mix these two items, then don't force me to see it on the street. The jungle is a wonderful place for irrational savages who wear running shoes with jeans. Especially at night, when the lions are hungry and all they can see are orange reflections six kilometers away.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

I take off my glasses, my hair grows back quickly and I return the coat with big shoulder pads to my grandfather.  It was fun, but it's always going to be a costume. There's only one Fran Lebowitz who puts the magnifying glass on things no one else sees. She doesn't say or do what she's supposed to, and even when everything is against her, she stands by her opinions. Her way of being a rebel is to use her own voice. So, I take off my costume, and I look for my long skirts, my flare pants, my sweaters and my boots, inspired by her to leave aside political correctness and look for my sincere voice among so many lies.       

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