So who cares then? Stop worrying about other people and worry about yourself. Let other people enjoy things you think are a waste of time. If the worst it does is some billboards and spam, then it’s the same as all the other spam. Letting yourself get worked up over it is only affecting you. You aren’t making them better, you’re making yourself worse with anger. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy a pumpkin spice latte.
Right, but they don’t feel like they’re suffering, they’re out enjoying things. You’re the one who is suffering, and it’s only because you’re letting it.
I’ve heard people who get tattoos often enough begin to enjoy the feel of the needle on their skin. So who are you to say tattooing bar codes on everyone’s necks is a bad thing? Don’t yuck my yum!
Christ then be mad at advertisers then, not the people who enjoy things. I don’t know man, just sounds like you’re going to be triggered by almost anything if people drinking coffee they like triggers you this much. I don’t know how to help you with that or what you want from me.
Is it equally valid to complain about seeing ads for Mother’s Day gifts when your mother was a drug addict and extensively abusive? Because that applies to me personally, and let me tell you, during the entire lead up to Mother’s Day, and all the ads they make claiming how much your mother gives up for you, and loves you, and cherishes you… I don’t complain even a bit.
Because other people have mothers who do love them. And they’re the target of those ads, not me.
How disgustingly privileged it is to proclaim that since you aren’t the target of advertising, it shouldn’t exist.
Ads for Mother’s Day gifts are indeed valid to complain about, regardless of one’s situation, because they cheapen their bond between mother and child to a transactional relationship, not uplift moms.
I’d wager that because were the targets of advertising, it shouldn’t exist. Ok my problem isn’t with advertising, per se, but with the insane shit it’s been since Bernays.
So who cares then? Stop worrying about other people and worry about yourself. Let other people enjoy things you think are a waste of time. If the worst it does is some billboards and spam, then it’s the same as all the other spam. Letting yourself get worked up over it is only affecting you. You aren’t making them better, you’re making yourself worse with anger. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy a pumpkin spice latte.
Presumably the people drowning in this suffocating deluge of mass marketing.
Right, but they don’t feel like they’re suffering, they’re out enjoying things. You’re the one who is suffering, and it’s only because you’re letting it.
I’ve heard people who get tattoos often enough begin to enjoy the feel of the needle on their skin. So who are you to say tattooing bar codes on everyone’s necks is a bad thing? Don’t yuck my yum!
Christ then be mad at advertisers then, not the people who enjoy things. I don’t know man, just sounds like you’re going to be triggered by almost anything if people drinking coffee they like triggers you this much. I don’t know how to help you with that or what you want from me.
Right. Yes. This is what I’m mad at.
Is it equally valid to complain about seeing ads for Mother’s Day gifts when your mother was a drug addict and extensively abusive? Because that applies to me personally, and let me tell you, during the entire lead up to Mother’s Day, and all the ads they make claiming how much your mother gives up for you, and loves you, and cherishes you… I don’t complain even a bit.
Because other people have mothers who do love them. And they’re the target of those ads, not me.
How disgustingly privileged it is to proclaim that since you aren’t the target of advertising, it shouldn’t exist.
Ads for Mother’s Day gifts are indeed valid to complain about, regardless of one’s situation, because they cheapen their bond between mother and child to a transactional relationship, not uplift moms.
I’d wager that because were the targets of advertising, it shouldn’t exist. Ok my problem isn’t with advertising, per se, but with the insane shit it’s been since Bernays.