Comfort is a compelling reason. Jesus Christ, we are so constantly stifled and repressed in this world at every single fucking avenue that I personally will never begrudge a person for sneaking an innocent moment of human comfort in when they can. The idea to frame this as a disrespectful monster shamelessly flouting our sacred decorum instead of as a tired person with aching feet seeking a moment of comfort when they are obviously away from home honestly depresses me a little here, guys.
I’ve never taken my shoes off on the train (“the metro” in my neck of the woods), but I’ve absolutely felt the throbbing of sore feet after a long day at the office.
Or fuck man, maybe they feel great and they’re just kicking back and soaking in the world to the fullest. I still don’t give a fuck. So much of our world is designed to be minimally inhabitable at best. We aren’t building things for humans; we’re building things to transport, direct,herd humans. It doesn’t have to be like this; we can reclaim some of our space. Look at any other mammal—are they maintaining strict orderly lines and never taking up space, or do they lounge when they’re exhausted? Why the fuck shouldn’t we, the supposed kings of the animal kingdom?
I don’t know man, this shit just gets me riled up because we end up being the torchbearers of cultural order in these cases; we are our own oppressors. And we’re so absolutely unwilling to risk any kind of exposure to discomfort, like we expect the entirety of the human experience to cater to our individual sensibilities. It’s madness.
So look, I don’t know about you, but I’m personally willing to concede some my personal aversion to the possibility of experiencing temporary discomfort to extend to my neighbor their need or desire for human-animal comforts. I won’t be ignorant about it; every case requires weight, but in the case of literally a person resting their feet on a seat, I find their potential benefit greatly outweighs the impact of any personal discomfort I might experience. I guess you will just have to measure and come to your own conclusions.
I have more to say on this, but this is already a fucking book, so I guess I’m stopping it here.
Comfort is a compelling reason. Jesus Christ, we are so constantly stifled and repressed in this world at every single fucking avenue that I personally will never begrudge a person for sneaking an innocent moment of human comfort in when they can. The idea to frame this as a disrespectful monster shamelessly flouting our sacred decorum instead of as a tired person with aching feet seeking a moment of comfort when they are obviously away from home honestly depresses me a little here, guys.
I’ve never taken my shoes off on the train (“the metro” in my neck of the woods), but I’ve absolutely felt the throbbing of sore feet after a long day at the office.
Or fuck man, maybe they feel great and they’re just kicking back and soaking in the world to the fullest. I still don’t give a fuck. So much of our world is designed to be minimally inhabitable at best. We aren’t building things for humans; we’re building things to transport, direct, herd humans. It doesn’t have to be like this; we can reclaim some of our space. Look at any other mammal—are they maintaining strict orderly lines and never taking up space, or do they lounge when they’re exhausted? Why the fuck shouldn’t we, the supposed kings of the animal kingdom?
I don’t know man, this shit just gets me riled up because we end up being the torchbearers of cultural order in these cases; we are our own oppressors. And we’re so absolutely unwilling to risk any kind of exposure to discomfort, like we expect the entirety of the human experience to cater to our individual sensibilities. It’s madness.
So look, I don’t know about you, but I’m personally willing to concede some my personal aversion to the possibility of experiencing temporary discomfort to extend to my neighbor their need or desire for human-animal comforts. I won’t be ignorant about it; every case requires weight, but in the case of literally a person resting their feet on a seat, I find their potential benefit greatly outweighs the impact of any personal discomfort I might experience. I guess you will just have to measure and come to your own conclusions.
I have more to say on this, but this is already a fucking book, so I guess I’m stopping it here.
Keep your feet off the chair, asshole.
I do.
Now you have some compassion, asshole.
TL;DR.
Keep your damn shoes on in public you weirdo.