Compared to your average college town cyclist, Ed Begley Jr. is a paragon of humility. I’ve never understood it, but for so many of my fellow “Americans”, there seems to be this all-purpose Asshole License you can issue yourself. It’s kinda like the “White Privilege” card, in that no one has ever seen one, but unlike “White Privilege”, the people who imagine themselves possessors of the Asshole License use it, every minute of every day. Did the seventeen year old in your life just read The Fountainhead or The Catcher in the Rye? Then you know what I mean — that kid just issued himself the Asshole License. Obviously getting dreadlocks (if you’re White) or existing (if you’re black) grants you the Asshole License, as does “passing a Gender Studies course” or “realizing that Israel’s actions don’t always match up with its rhetoric”.
But, my friends, the easiest way to obtain an Asshole License is to take up cycling. It must be something about those doofy helmets — anyone willing to wear what looks like a giant athletic supporter jammed down over his eyebrows has to be some kind of douchebag to begin with, and since nut-squashing lycra pants must squeeze out whatever residual testosterone they had left, it’s no wonder that cyclists are such bitches.
Severian, “Luxury Beliefs”, Rotten Chestnuts, 2021-06-03.
August 21, 2024
QotD: Cyclists at “Flyover State”
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