AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE WHAT I SAID....
FUCK OFF.
Jerry's Marginalia — By Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Ladies, gentlemen, assorted assholes, and those currently inhaling their own ego fumes like it's premium-grade fucking oxygen:
I have an announcement.
I AM NOT A PEOPLE PLEASER.
Never applied for the position.
Never attended orientation.
Never signed the employee handbook.
And I sure as fuck don't remember agreeing to become somebody else's emotional support doormat.
So if you've wandered into my little corner of existence expecting me to rearrange my personality around your delicate sensibilities, I regret to inform you that you've arrived at the wrong fucking address.
The Department of People Pleasing has been permanently closed.
Its employees have been reassigned.
Its furniture has been sold.
And the complaint box?
I FED IT TO THE RACCOON.
YOUR DISAPPROVAL IS NOT A COURT ORDER
Somewhere along the way, people developed this fascinating belief that disliking something gives them authority over it.
They don't like your opinion?
You must apologize.
They don't like your humor?
You must stop laughing.
They don't like your personality?
You must change.
They don't like the way you express yourself?
You must submit a revised version for their approval.
WHO THE FUCK APPOINTED YOU DIRECTOR OF MY EXISTENCE?
Because I don't remember voting.
And even if there had been an election, your campaign slogan of "Everybody Must Accommodate My Feelings" probably wouldn't have won me over.
Here's a revolutionary concept:
YOU ARE ALLOWED TO DISLIKE ME.
Seriously.
Go right ahead.
You can dislike my jokes.
You can disagree with my opinions.
You can think my taste in entertainment is absolute garbage.
You can even decide that my personality resembles a caffeinated raccoon operating heavy machinery without a license.
That's fine.
That's your right.
But your right to dislike me does not magically create an obligation for me to become somebody you prefer.
YOUR DISAPPROVAL IS INFORMATION, NOT AN INSTRUCTION.
PLEASE STOP HUFFING YOUR OWN EGO FARTS
And then we have the Ego Enthusiasts.
Oh, these magnificent bastards.
They've spent so long inhaling their own self-importance that they've apparently forgotten other people are allowed to breathe.
Every disagreement becomes a personal attack.
Every correction becomes disrespect.
Every refusal becomes an insult.
Every person who won't bow down becomes an enemy.
Brother, if your sense of superiority requires everybody around you to act inferior, perhaps the problem isn't everybody else.
Perhaps you've simply mistaken your own asshole for a fucking oxygen supply.
STEP AWAY FROM THE EGO FARTS.
OPEN A WINDOW.
HYDRATE.
TOUCH SOME GRASS.
Preferably grass that hasn't already filed a restraining order against you.
Because here's what I find particularly exhausting:
Some people aren't satisfied with being miserable.
They want company.
They want an audience.
They want everybody else to participate in their little emotional landfill.
And if you refuse?
Suddenly you're the problem.
No, sweetheart.
I'M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR MAINTAINING YOUR PERSONAL ATMOSPHERE OF BULLSHIT.
I'M NOT HERE TO WIN YOUR APPROVAL
Now, don't misunderstand me.
I can be polite.
I can be respectful.
I can listen.
I can admit when I'm wrong.
Hell, I can even apologize when I've genuinely fucked something up.
That's called accountability.
But there's a difference between accountability and submission.
If I make a mistake, show me.
If I hurt somebody, tell me what happened.
If my argument is wrong, bring evidence.
I'll listen.
I'll examine it.
And if you're right?
I'll correct myself.
But if your entire argument consists of:
"I don't like what you said!"
Then congratulations.
You've successfully communicated a personal preference.
WOULD YOU LIKE A FUCKING CERTIFICATE?
Because that's all you've established.
Not that I'm wrong.
Not that you're right.
Not that the universe has appointed you my supervisor.
Just that you don't like something.
And you know what?
That's okay.
We can survive that.
THE GREMLIN HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING
Now, sometimes the Gremlin comes out to play.
Maybe he puts on a ridiculous hat.
Maybe he shakes a pair of maracas.
Maybe he tells a joke so catastrophically stupid that even the furniture considers leaving.
And somebody inevitably asks:
"Are you serious?"
YES, MA'AM. I AM.
SHAKA SHAKA.
Because sometimes the joke is worth committing to.
Sometimes enjoying yourself means accepting that not everybody will appreciate the performance.
And sometimes the most dignified response to somebody else's disapproval is a polite nod, a final shake of the maracas, and a graceful exit.
I'm not going to demand that you laugh.
I'm not going to chase you down the hallway begging for applause.
And I'm certainly not going to rewrite my entire personality because you didn't enjoy the show.
You can stand on the left if you don't like it.
You can stand on the right if you do.
Either way, the performance continues for anyone who actually wants to be there.
I DON'T NEED UNIVERSAL APPROVAL TO ENJOY MY OWN FUCKING LIFE.
BUT DON'T CONFUSE FREEDOM WITH IMMUNITY
And here's where some people are going to get uncomfortable.
Because refusing to be a people pleaser doesn't mean refusing accountability.
It doesn't mean I get to abuse people and call it honesty.
It doesn't mean I get to violate boundaries and call it authenticity.
It doesn't mean every criticism is automatically an attack on my freedom.
That's bullshit, too.
And I'm not interested in trading one kind of bullshit for another.
IF I FUCK UP, HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE.
But hold me accountable for what I actually did.
Not what you imagined.
Not what you assumed.
Not what your bruised ego desperately needs to believe.
And if you're going to demand accountability from me?
You'd better be prepared to accept it yourself.
Because the rules don't magically stop applying when they become inconvenient for you.
That's not integrity.
That's hypocrisy wearing a fucking name tag.
I WILL CALL YOUR BITCH ASS OUT
You want to disagree?
Fine.
You want to criticize?
Go ahead.
You want to have an actual conversation?
Pull up a chair.
But if you're going to manipulate people, humiliate them, exploit their kindness, or deliberately make their lives miserable because your ego needs another meal?
I'M GOING TO CALL THAT SHIT WHAT IT IS.
Not because I enjoy conflict.
Not because I think I'm morally superior.
Not because I'm desperate to win an argument.
But because silence isn't always kindness.
Sometimes silence is exactly what lets the bullshit continue.
And I'm not interested in becoming another person who watches somebody get mistreated and says nothing because speaking up might make the room uncomfortable.
If you're behaving like an asshole, don't expect me to call it a personality quirk.
If you're exploiting somebody, don't expect me to call it clever business.
If you're humiliating somebody for asking an honest question, don't expect me to applaud your superior knowledge.
And if you're deliberately making another person's life harder?
DON'T EXPECT ME TO PRETEND THAT'S NORMAL.
Because life is already hard enough.
We don't need volunteers making it worse.
MY PERSONALITY IS NOT UP FOR PUBLIC AUCTION
Here's the final announcement.
I am not everybody's cup of tea.
Wonderful.
Some people prefer coffee.
Some prefer soda.
Some apparently prefer drinking directly from the septic tank of their own self-importance.
To each their own.
But I refuse to spend the rest of my existence auditioning for the approval of people who wouldn't be satisfied even if I handed them the entire fucking theater.
You don't have to like me.
You don't have to agree with me.
You don't have to laugh at my jokes.
And you certainly don't have to stick around.
BUT YOU DON'T GET TO OWN ME.
My voice is mine.
My boundaries are mine.
My mistakes are mine to acknowledge and correct.
My enjoyment is not something you get to confiscate because you disapprove.
And my willingness to be respectful should never be mistaken for a willingness to be controlled.
So here's my invitation.
Come as you are.
Bring your opinions.
Bring your curiosity.
Bring your disagreements.
We might learn something.
We might laugh.
We might argue.
We might discover that we have absolutely nothing in common.
And that's perfectly fine.
But leave the entitlement at the fucking door.
FINAL NOTICE
I will not be everybody's favorite person.
I will not always say the popular thing.
I will not always make the comfortable choice.
And I will not pretend to agree with somebody simply because disagreement might upset them.
I will listen when listening is warranted.
I will apologize when an apology is deserved.
I will change my mind when the evidence gives me a reason.
But I will not surrender my personality to satisfy somebody else's ego.
I AM NOT A PEOPLE PLEASER.
I AM NOT YOUR PUNCHING BAG.
I AM NOT YOUR PERSONAL VALIDATION MACHINE.
And if your happiness requires me to stop being myself?
Well, brother.
There's the door.
Have a wonderful day.
Don't forget your belongings.
And please remember to collect your ego from the coat check.
Because if you don't like what I said...
FUCK OFF.
Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Chief Ankle-Biting Officer, Department of Petty Affairs
Representing the Lawful Neutral Paladin and the constitutional right to shake one's maracas without requesting permission from the Ministry of Hurt Feelings.
OFFICIAL DEPARTMENT POLICY:
Respect is offered. Accountability is expected. Approval is optional.
Gerald the Cactus has lodged a formal complaint regarding the excessive profanity.
His complaint has been carefully reviewed.
FUCK OFF, GERALD. 🌵🦝