One more time I hear someone say “don’t judge me” , I am going to puke. I will try to puke right on them and on their weak-ass persona. As soon as I am done wiping from my face the partially digested tomato soup I just ate at an overpriced organic lunch joint downtown, I will ask: what’s wrong with being judged? Aren’t we blessed with our wonderful brains in order to do just that – to judge, to form opinions, to admire when due, and criticize when we feel like it, to give and receive advice, to seek constant change, so that we can grow and improve in one or more aspects of our lives? Why are we so afraid of being judged? Why can’t we handle tough love and why don’t we even want to try?
Lots of people in San Francisco say they like honesty and they want honesty, but you try to be honest with them and see how far that takes you. Before you know it, those honesty seekers will become extremely unvailable to see you or talk to you, so the safe choice as of today at least is to keep your honesty to yourself or dispense it very carefully when you are literally cornered and forced to do so. Perhaps it’s time to grow up and out of your hippie relativism and start taking a long, hard look at yourself, that’s been hiding behind excuses.
Last time I checked, no one died or was injured by a being called on their shit. If anything, they benefited from it. Judging means caring one way or another. Most people who compliment you want to please you, and that’s not the same as caring about you. Judge away! Maybe then, one day, we will have a special day or a special holiday if you will – a judgment day where we all make at least one very honest judgment about each other to each other, and take it a like a man, regardless of our gender. Till then, lets hold off on calling San Francisco a truly liberal city.