Im starting to think I might be a snob… But how does one know? Is this a bad thing?
What got me thinking that I might have a problem is when I realized that I will subconsciously dismiss someone who doesn’t like, let’s say, Mr. Show. A good, non-snobbish person, might just chalk that up to different strokes for different folks. Me? I would more or less take that to mean that they are a bad person. A baby eater. Evil.
Some other things I like that I can’t compromise on? Radiohead, Ricky Gervais, Wes Anderson movies. It shouldn’t matter to me if you don’t like these things but it does. If you tell me you don’t like them it will eat at me until I scare you away with an unedited torrent of expletive-laden bile… Well, that, or I will just quietly think you suck.
Worse still is my reaction when I hear from someone that they love something I hate: Ill make it my mission to change them. To fix them. To make them a more complete and wonderful person in the shadow of me. I once dated a girl whose favorite artist was James Blunt. That was no good. So first I made her a chill CD with artists like “The Shins” and “Elliott Smith”… Artists that are clearly superior but work in a similar genre. When that didnt work I broke up with her. Im sure she was a lovely lady with an otherwise wonderful personality and a lot to offer… But she liked James Blunt. James fucking Blunt. What could I do?
Well the answer, I suppose, would be to not be an elitist snob… So what now? Embrace it or change?
The case for change is that it would make me compatible with more people. Friend’s friends, friend’s girlfriends, new people… All would suddenly have a much better chance of seeming awesome. Its also very time consuming and challenging to bend someone’s likes and dislikes to your will. It’s even harder to meet people who like a lot of what the elitist snob likes.
But what if I continue down this road? I suppose the best case scenerio is that I become David Cross or Chuck Klosterman… A loveable world famous snob, able to tear apart beloved mass appeal figures with hilarious results (to the delight of other snobs). I will sit high on top a mountain of broken James Blunt records and Jim Belushi “comedy” tapes, smoking hookah and drinking sangria with my new friends, while attractive women with asymetrical haircuts and adorable hats will flock to us on their hot air balloons. On the flip side, I could find myself alone in a bar on Queen Street West talking to hipsters about something quintessentially independent and objectively shitty.
Guess ill just see what happens. Or… Tell me what you think and ill just do that.
