“Fatti i cazzi tuoi!”

Roommate baited with petty argument

Catering to a desire to shore up one’s taste and esoteric opinions in the public’s eye, members of the Irritati sometimes foist false dichotomies upon uninterested bystanders.

“Dude, do think Green Day is ‘Punk’?”
“Actually, I di--”
“Well? Do you?”
...or:
“Where do you stand on the Manatoid Issue? Pro or Con?”
“Actually, I don--”
“Well? Where?”

Sigh. Such forced ferreting-out of the opinions of others is reminiscent of late-night dormroom bull sessions of yesteryear, for the answers are of no regard towards any deeper understanding between our interlocutors than they are cheap rhetorical stinkbombs meant to “ego up” the interrogatore to conversational alpha (ά) status.

Random articles of note:
• Look! Middle class kids pound it in anti-bourgeois drum circles subsidized by parents’ third mortgage, which sends the tykes to school just to sneer at those footing their bills.
• Dial tones to mixolydian symphonies, sparkly glitter to galaxies; what the muse speaks is nil unless you can paint the appropriate picture. (The same goes for Pesto Burps and MIDI Grace Notes.)
• La ragione governa il savio e bastone il matto.
• CLOWNAGE: No matter what happens, just tack a “sorry” onto the end of every messy consequence of un-thoughtout actions. This is especially noteworthy when done by middle management, because, as we all know, appearances are everything.

“Ma bisogna pure che vi spieghi...”
Che cosa vuole costui?