I CAN’T FIND my headphones. I have a flight in less than two hours and I can’t find my headphones. I fucking hate flying without headphones. I don’t want to listen to a flight attendant fuck around and try to make a safety notification charming, because that’s always seemed weird to me. It’s like, “Here are some instructions in case our plane crashes into the ground,” but, like, if a huge fan of Wayne Brady-era Whose Line Is It Anyway were giving those instructions.
I don’t want to listen to your baby cry, and I know it’s hard being a parent, but your baby isn’t going to get me a Father’s Day card, so I hate your baby. Your baby is nothing but shrill weeps and shit fumes. I just want my headphones. I want to listen to a podcast that is placid enough that I can fall asleep. I want to listen to The Splendid Table and dream about riding an eggplant into a cloud made of generous pledges and tote bags.
I scour my room, but I have to leave for the airport and I’m sweaty and fucking furious and I’m casting aspersions on my roommates, because I just fucking know that Ron Funches has my headphones and a fucking sitcom, and I’m fucking pissed and my back-up headphones fucking suck, because they came in a gift bag at a comedy festival and meanwhile a kid in Africa just starved to death, and a cat is eating her foot, and then my brain, conditioned by goddamn Twitter, chirps, “Hah, white people problems!”
A couple things about that—first, how exceptional do you have to feel to believe “white people problems”? Like Condoleezza Rice hasn’t been furious about her phone plan, or Aziz Ansari hasn’t been upset that Whole Foods fucked up its cold-pressed juice section. Even the more-innocuous-but-hardly-enough-to-warrant-mentioning cousin “first world problems” is obnoxious—as though everyone in Argentina and Pakistan is fighting a gigantic buzzard for an old boot.
It’s become a meme, and that’s fine, because what people really mean is “count your blessings,” and that’s nice and important, but hey, listen: Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up with your “white people problems,” and your “You think it’s cold? When I lived in Syracuse….” GO BACK TO SYRACUSE, YOU GARBAGEBARGE.
Can I live? Can I complain about shit without you reminding me that the world is on fire? I’m privileged. I’m one of the most privileged people. I’m writing this on a MacBook in an airplane. As if my “white male child of two college graduates” existence wasn’t enough, I have an empty seat next to me. Fuck me, right? Sure. But chastising someone for reacting to the conditions of their existence doesn’t alleviate anyone else’s burden. And it will never clean the Ganges.
You’re a jerk. You’re a lumbering lummox, oozing existential guilt, and getting it everywhere. Your line of logic leads to a preamble before every sentence: “As a citizen of a country built on the backs of slaves and immigrants and possible only through the genocide of its original people… and before I go further, let me acknowledge that this nation’s wealth exists only in concert with massive poverty in other parts of the globe… but all of that being said, do you serve Coke or Pepsi?”
I mean… all of that is true, but I don’t have time to say it—because I have to get home to wait for the fucking cable guy. I swear if Comcast doesn’t fix this before Game of Thrones, I’m going to fucking rage…
Shit, you’re right. Totally correct. Now what is the proper way to express total unconditional sympathy for the plight that you vocalized? What is it that you want?
Sounds like the sociopathic part of your psyche is winning in this little inner conflict you’ve got going. Humility isn’t an unattractive quality…wait, is this piece supposed to be a sarcastic stab at uncaring people? I never know what the fuck you’re writing about. If that’s the case, hahaha??
It’s about how fucking annoying it is when people don’t let you complain. How is that not clear?
So people are complaining about your article complaining that people don’t let you complain.
This is the most internet thing I have ever seen.
it totally FUCKING pisses me off when i type a comment- a good comment that takes me 15 minutes and then i go to save it or post it whatever and then Chrome spits it back and says DNS error. Most fricking annoying issue ever. I give up on this process man.
You work for that insufferable Skeletor Chelsea Handler and you can’t handle a short flight with a crying baby? Weird world.
I mean, do you want an honest answer to that question, uggers? Or do you just want me to tell you to fuck off?
You know what’s more annoying than people not letting you complain? Listening to you complain.
Then stop reading my column. Go fucking make something that isn’t a miserable internet comment.
“It’s about how fucking annoying it is when people don’t let you complain. How is that not clear?”
Except of course when your complaint is about Ian’s writing, in which case he’ll threaten to shove his dong in your mouth.
Tune in next week kids when Ian uses his power of the pen to reflect on the crisis in Gaza while describing his beat-off session lying on his back with a pair of used mail-order panties draped over his face. In which he will draw the analogy of his cock as a Palestinian rocket and his tubby as Israel’s Iron Dome. Climaxing into a rant about how the one glob of spunk that landed perfectly in his navel cavity was just like that epic 3-point shot Lillard made during the playoffs. Finally, as the flaccidity sets in, he’ll share that he’s convinced the owner of said panties most likely had beef brisket as their last meal before they were sent off. Which of course makes him hungry.
Actually, I have to correct myself here. When Ian masturbates I think it’s technically described as a “reach around,” but I’d have to defer to Dan Savage for confirmation.
omg zipitup. I need a nap. That was lethal.
Portland has got some ‘splaining to do. And this is actually a good start to an issue that I very recently have confronted. I’m a transplant from NYC, Asian American, newly wed gay man. I just started my first salaried job after years of looking, I grew up really well economically and had lots of amazing opportunities and access to things thanks to my adopted parents, yet at a food cart the other week, which I was going to regularly exemplifies exactly what’s up with Portland. It’s liberal, but it ain’t progressive. I had been going to a Chinese cart on SW Washington, across from my work a couple times to get their sesame chicken, and the cashier (who I assume is an older gay man–whose partner cooks the food) asked me why I was getting the same meal as before and why not change it up. (Because I go to other carts for variety, dipshit!) I also felt like it was bad business to question someone’s repetitive meal choices. Anyway, when I went to pay I reached for some napkins and a fork, and was asked why I didn’t choose chopsticks. I answered that I don’t use them because I have a mild form of cerebral palsy, to which he answered ‘you look fine to me’. Which is so wrong on SO MANY levels! First of all, I don’t need anyone’s approval of how I look, I also felt like I was being checked-out, I didn’t like my food choice to be scrutinized, and this is the 21st fuckin century, people should commonly understand that not all disabilities are visible. No more sesame chicken from there!
White privilege needs to be addressed more in this city and I’m thankful you touched on it a little bit. I totally admit that I come from a background of privilege, and try my best to be as momentarily engaged and empathetic to peoples needs around me, but the whole image or psyche of Portland being very liberal has huge limitations. People are more radical with their homegrown organic gardens then they are socially progressive. They want diversity, but don’t want people to move here.
Anyway, this is my rare internet rant, which I haven’t done in a while, so I’m glad to do it here. Thanks!
For better or worse people have a voice now. You can call it trolling or hating or whatever, but the Internet opened that door, we all walked through, and there’s no going back. Yeah, a lot of voices are angry and immature, but what seems a thousand times worse than those voices is the shit heels that want to take those voices away because they don’t like the sound.
How about the opposite, how about you get the fuck off the Internet with your shitty, half assed column, you millennial twit.
FYI, I will be here every week to heckle your efforts.
Also, I make art through architecture every day, try making something that’s not a joke and get back to me.
Shitty comments on the internet will never result in a positive result. Here are the 3 things that happen every time you post:
1) 3 other trolls think you’re great. Congratulations.
2) A bunch of people skim the comments and ignore you. That’s too bad, I guess.
3) People who like the article (of which there are many, because normal people read things they like and don’t waste their time on things they don’t) think you’re an idiot. Even if you’re not an idiot, admitting you don’t understand a simple-to-understand article certainly doesn’t paint you in a smart light. Net result: you make a stranger’s day 3% worse because the back of their mind is now infected with your unnecessary negativity. You’ve made an impact on the world! Yay?
My honest question is this: What do you hope to gain by heckling every week?
Love you, buddy.
I would write a rebuttal to snickerdoodle and zipitup but they are not public figures and they only act internet tough behind adorable screen names so I’ll just say KEEP COMMENTING ON MY COLUMNS, FUCKBOIS, WE APPRECIATE THE TRAFFIC.
Ron Funches traded your headphones for a jelly donut.
I’m a huge fan of yours Karmel, so much that I sought you out just to shake your hand once. That was my privilege. I read every week the words that you take time to write, which is also my privilege. But I do have a few questions that I’d like to ask. It seems as weeks pass and your column is posted, Everything as Fuck reads more and more like a cock-a-hoop which means exhibiting self-importance; “big talk”. When did the word privilege define into one’s own self-righteousness? I don’t mean that in a negative way at all, please understand that. The only reason I am asking is because I miss the old Ian. I missing reading similar undiagnosed first world problems-like why it takes more time to lick off a Dorito stain on our fingers, then it does to get to the center of a fucking Tootsie Pop. The relatable simple life.
More-so-now-though, I haven’t been able to read your column without reading about how famous you are through your own words (either in the column itself, or in the comments, or worse… both.) I know that people are jackasses here, you may even think I am for this comment, but, I miss the Portland as Fuck in you. It seems as though these asshats have convinced your thought process into defending yourself before you actually need to, and it’s shown up in your column a few times. Everything as Fuck, is everything that sucks. But is there a way not to let that include you for being a braggart though? The Ian Karmel that I know Portland loves so much isn’t the holier than thou type. So where is he?
“Ever since Ian went to college he never talks about high school anymore. What happened to the 15-year-old who taught-me-how to overuse-the-fuck-out-of hyphens?”
You do know this isn’t I-Anon, right Ian? It’s ok, I forgive you. Huggsies?
The reason people from Syracuse tell you about real cold is because they are too polite to tell you to STFU and stop whining. No one likes whiners but, hey, you are an entertainer and you have a column so I’m sure all your friends love you.
Given the great content the Merc has hosted on the back page over the years, I won’t be surprised when they pull the plug on you. Don’t read your column, you say? Fine, the Dinosaur Comics kicks your ass. And that dude is Canadian, likely never whines about the cold.
Is it possible that you folks are convinced Ian went all Hollywood and have been waiting for a reason to smack him around a bit? I love this part of the country, can’t imagine living anywhere else really, but this shit gets so goddamn irritating.