I'm a grown woman calling my boobs "the girls" (but in my language in an ungrammatical way that could be translated as "the girlses") :D in the privacy of my own home.
Didn't bother me. We all have habits that annoy someone and the point is that we don't deserve to die for it. I see that scene as Frank and Roxy spinning out of control, shoehorning annoying habits into the "deserves to die" pile and the grievances get increasingly absurd. Annoying enough to vent about but nothing that makes you a bad person, deserving death. Kind of the movies explanation of the slippery slope problem. We cheer them on when they kill that horrible Super Sweet 16 girl and her lax parents and then we choke on that cheer when they increasingly circle us. I think that's the point.
There are few people who are not guilty of any of those enumerated annoying habits - or very similar ones - and should there be such a person, you can be sure they are uptight, unlikable, judgemental asses. So, still annoying. No one is safe, once you start thinking like that.
I can see how "the girls" can be an annoyance - it can be part of cutesifying and infantilizing grown women and that does bother me too. - Firstly, I don't understand why I would discuss my boobs in public and if I needed to, for some unfathomable reason, I would probably call them boobs. But at home, with my husband, they are the girlses and that's my privilege. Because he knows me and knows I'm neither cutesified nor infantile.
I, personally, get really annoyed with the "people who call themselves spiritual" thing but I don't want to kill them. It is a really annoying habit to go around labelling yourself as if you are expecting a medal for "living right".
And that's kind of the difference. There's a huge difference between seeing yourself as spiritual and calling yourself spiritual. I have yet to meet a person who do the ostentatious spirituality thing, who actually live as they learn. They tend to be envious, judgemental, impervious to logic and narrow minded. While people who do the non-ostentatious spirituality thing are fine. Just people with a different world view from mine, which is all good.
_Being_ spiritual and _calling_yourself_ spiritual are two very different things. Neither of which deserves a death sentence. But neither does parking like a pimhole or being a spoilt canute.
(If you are wondering which one you, personally, are: count your last 100 FB status updates. If more than 20 were about your spiritual journey, spiritual undertakings or your brand of spirituality. You may need to have a think.)
And while I'm not keen on those talent shows and their initial freak shows, I have noticed that while bad performances get youtubed a lot, the biggest breakouts are always when an underdog shuts the jury up by being really good. People go mad for sharing that stuff, to the point where a popculture-tard like me recognize the stories. (I was, due to living in radio shadow, without a teve for over six years.) It's now gotten to the point where every season needs its Susan Boyle, because people still root for the underdog.
Which is one of the reasons I'm never going on a killing spree. As long as more people care about sharing the unexpected breakout success than the flat weirdo with the spanner outfit, there's still no need to go on a killing spree. I don't believe in god but I have read the bible, as part of a literature degree, and god was willing to save Sodom and Gomorrah if there was a single just man to be found. As long as there is a single just person around, let's none of us go on killing sprees. Okay? I'd rather not that person got caught in the cross fire. And, for the record, you don't get unjust for never reading books, calling your bodyparts cutesy things or stick preening labels on yourself. It makes you annoying but not kill-worthy.
I do feel the same frustration, though. I really loved this film and yes, the shootings felt cathartic. But I think that even in this revenge fantasy extravaganza, there are responsible scenes that draw that attitude to its logical conclusion and one of them was this scene, where Frank and Roxy slowly hone in on everyone, including me.
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