Tried to talk to 3 people today about the poor taste of last night's party. One of them stared silently at their laptop, one actually got up and left the room, and one was defensive, snarky, and told me that they were "sorry I was offended by the name of a Facebook event."
I told them to realize how fucked up it was, and how the fact they could even consider it irony was a sign of great privilege denying, and to consider how much words can hurt in future.
Then I stepped on a fucking staple poking out of a piece of cardboard on the floor as I left their house, side-stepping the pile of cat shit that's been in their foyer for at least two days.
Why do I bother?