Who Am I To Judge?
I admit it.
I’ve been known to be more than a bit sarcastic.
If the word “snarky” had been around when I was a child growing up, I’m sure my Mother would have used it often to describe my behavior instead of some of the other choice things she said to me.
I also admit to being a little judgy at times. One such moment came this weekend as I saw a pink Christmas tree out by the curb waiting for disposal pick up. A lightbulb went off over my head as if I was channeling Kathy Streib -- wow --- it could be a Speechless Sunday post or maybe something a bit longer. My mind raced. I’m glad it slow downed before my fingers hit the keyboard.
On Sunday, as I was looking through the Arts & Books section of the Los Angeles Times in search of a bit of cultcha I saw some reviews of exhibits at some of our local museums. Through the magic of careful editing -- I will remove names but you’ll soon get my point or at least I should say it caused me to think…
One review included:
...The installation summons creaky Hollywood cliches, cliches about creaky Hollywood cliches. And so it goes throughout the seven-month exhibition of shallow mixed-media works….
And another:
It isn’t that “artist” is bad. He’s good -- just not that good.
And still another:
Let’s stipulate at the outside “exhibit name” will be a popular hit. Brainless amusement often is.
Will these rather unkind reviews change my outlook on snarky comments and sarcastic quips? Well, I make no guarantees in that regard except there will be no commentary on that Christmas tree I saw at the side of the curb. I think my Mother and Kathy might agree. Maybe we all need to stop to think before hitting that submit or send key.
Who Am I to Judge?
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