I don’t need sympathy or special consideration because, ultimately, who cares? You hate me, and I hate me, too. We are on the same team. I guess what I’m saying is that maybe we could all just mind our own fucking business for once, and that when you can actually see a person’s scars, maybe be a pal and don’t pick at them.
Samantha Irby, in ‘We are never meeting in real life’
Affleck’s was the kind of middle-aged-white-male sadness that the Internet loves to mock—a mocking that depends, simultaneously, on a complete rejection of this sadness, as well as a hedging identification with it. These depressed-Affleck images can arouse both amusement and a sense of poignancy, a touch of Schadenfreude as well as something like sympathy.
The New Yorker: The Great Sadness of Ben Affleck
If he were a civilian, Chike would have had sympathies, would have tried to puzzle out the rights and wrongs of each side, but his military training disposed him to neutrality. It was for politicians to decide who they fought and why, which causes were just and which were not. Soldiers dealt in orders alone
“Welcome To Lagos” by Chibundu Onuzo
Continue reading Civilians, Soldiers, and Politicians