Shit talking is funny. I talk shit mostly to myself. It is most fun when other people talk shit about people and then you get to talk shit about the way they talked shit and you can talk shit about them in a sarcastic way while they become defensive and look even more contorted for having shit talked someone.
Publicly I like to shit talk shittalkers more than I like to shit talk just stuff in general, just because I am naturally a contrarian. It's in my blood. I feel meaner inside than I am often on the outside. I have a lot of mean thoughts.
I can't help myself sometimes.
This guy probably really had no idea what he was opening when he opened his shit talk. What's mainly funny is the shit talk doesn't even really shit talk in a way that makes clear sense outside of the fact that he just seems upset that someone who he didn't think was working as hard as him achieved something. Still I like the conversation. I am in favor of shit talk, as long as you are ready for people.
Shit talking gets attention. It builds some kind of 'aura' around the thing being shit talked.
Bill Hicks was the king of all shit talkers.
This, I think, is funny and constructive.
There are lots of things I want to shit talk. On here I usually don't do it because it's pretty much impossible to not be misconstrued. Sometimes I like to shit talk privately to someone who will get it. There are lots of art shows in Atlanta that have really commonplace seeming art in them. Art that people could say looks like it didn't take any work. Art that people could say isn't art because it's just pictures of people having fun or little scratchy drawings that don't even look cool in a minimalist way.
I call these art shows 'show and tell'. I like the term 'show and tell.' It would probably be considered shit talk to tell those people I think they are participating in a show and tell.
I want to start an art show series in Atlanta that is a true show and tell.
I will bring my He Man lunchbox and tell about the time I got it taken away from me by a middle-aged man and bapped in the face with it. The man had come into the elementary school cafeteria. No adults saw him come in. He had on a yellow t-shirt tugged loose around the neck. He came up to me and took my lunchbox away and bapped me in the face with it. Then he just stood there.
My third grade teacher I remember being pretty at the time, though as I remember her now in my head I don't think I'd think she is pretty.