By: Sean
[2001-11-26]
You know what I hate? Wicker.
I mean, jesus.
You know what I recently realized I hate? Wicker. I mean, Jesus. Weaving little sticks and twigs into furniture? Why do we let people get away with shit like that?
I've been giving this a lot of thought lately. I couldn't tell you how long I've been thinking about it, as I've been keeping track of time by the number of alcohol units consumed (but I'm not going to provide you with my weight in pounds despite the fact that I am English) and I am sure about this. In fact, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Wicker pisses me the fuck off, and it's high time I stopped pretending that it didn't.
I mean, Christ, when you go to the furniture store, and you look at the god damned chairs, comparing the sturdy solid-wood ones with the flimsy little twig-seats, do you say to the salesman "I want the chair that looks like it's going to fall apart when I sit in it" or "I'll take the chair that makes that creaking noise" or "I'd like the chair that I can't sit in comfortably when I'm naked"? Do you? 'Cause if you do you must be some kind of asshole, buddy, and you better pray that you dnio't meet mee face2face 'CAUSE I BADD BUDDY, I BADDDDD.
I got a wicker chair once because I thought that it would be lightweight and easy to move come moving time. But it wasn't very comfortable, and it was noisy. I was told that I should soak it with a hose occasionally to quiet it down, and to keep it from getting brittle. My two favorite furnitures now are an office chair that swivels and tilts, and my fouton, both very comfortable. One guy that I knew in Portland made furniture of sorts, his entire basement was about five feet deep with little styrofoam balls. He would run across the kitchen and dive down the basement stairs, and he encouraged me to do the same. At first, I was sceptical, but it was fun! Less noisy than wicker. I think that people who have entirely wicker furniture probably have clothes made out of tree bark.
It's nice to see some real hate again, and you couldn't have picked a better target. Wattle's no fun without the daub.
I agree with the anti-wicker sentiment; "crunchy" ill describes fine furniture if you ask me. Wattle and daub is another matter, I'm pleased that my black leather goods are made without the use of
pure.
After looking around, it seems that I have two wicker items, magazine baskets.
i remember once attending a wicker party, which is where some innocent civilian is paid to fill her house with wicker items by an evil wicker company, invite her friends/absolute strangerround and try to sell it off. it was nightmarish, i was about seven and found myself stuck in a familiar environment but there was wicker everywhere. ever since then i've bloody hated wicker, what's the point in it? it really does hurt when you go to sit on it naked and get a big pointy piece of twig stuck in your arse. i hate trainers too, what's the bloody point? they fall apart on your feet! thanks for bringing the wicker debate up, i love it.
Sean, I am glad you have the balls to stand up against wicker. This, and the
classic Annna monitor diatribe are two articles that succinctly describe things I hate very much. I mean, wicker is 1) pungently ugly. 2) ridiculously uncomfortable. I'm not sure if I agree completely with your hatred of all who purchase wicker, but I could be persuaded to take up this unjust antipathy, with only a little convincing.
ps, the man in the
monitor-touching article's clipart has a breast, possibly stolen from the woman in same picture. and shiny blue hair. and pants up to his ribs.
I don't have a problem with Wicker. I mean, Jesus. By all accounts he was a man of unparalleled compassion and prophetic vision. And he doesn't mind when I accidentally call him "Wicker".
I must state for the record that
The Wicker Man is an excellent film, possibly Christopher Lee's best role.
To the times, when I eye wicker, I start the urge to illuminate fogos.
When you translate your comment to portugese and back via babelfish, funny things happen.
For example:
I do not have a problem with wicker. I mean, Jesus. For all the customers unparalleled was a man of compassion and the vision prophetic. He does not occupy when I call it " wicker accidentally ".
Of course He doesn't occupy! The goddam rabid monkeys ate Him!
Japanese and back:
I do not possess the problem of the wicker. I mean yes * Christ. He who is due to all descriptions was the person of unparalleled sympathy and prophetic range of vision. And I " the wicker " when call him accidentally, he does not make the air.
Ya sure! Then translate it into Norwegian!
Jeg ikke eier problemet av wicker. Jeg betyr jaChrist. Han som er forfalt til alle beskrivelser var personen av enestående sympati og prophetic rekkevidde av syn. Og Iwickernår kaller ham tilfeldigvishan ikke lager luften.
I was driving down the high way on Monday the 26th and I passed a wicker outlet. Thoughts began to form in my head, I railed at my dashboard, expounding my extreme disdain for wicker. Reading this article was like finding a long lost twin, only not.
I hate wicker, i mean Jesus. No, really, I mean Jesus. I hate Jesus.
Maybe, just maybe (please stay with me, my imagination is running over time) people in the ye olde days when wooden furniture made at home was fashionable and inevitable, someone ran out of proper wood and wanted a chair that would be uncomfortable to torture their most unwanted visitors so they thought
'making chairs out of the reminance of this tree might save me the job of buying a skip, and I could also make it have lots of splinters so it is even more torturous'
When he had finished the chair the man was proud that he had taken so long making a piece of crap that he would otherwise throw away so he invited his 'friend' (enemy) around to see. His 'friend' (enemy) liked pain and so was very happy that the chair was uncomfortable. This angered the man so he decided to get his own back on the world (and maybe jesus and god too) by marketing his evil scheme.
I think i've wasted enough space on this post now. Goodbye.
I fucking hate wicker. If wicker was a person, i'd kill him with my bare hands. If wicker was a dog, I'd kick it. If wicker was a bug, I'd squash that fucker. If wicker was a fish, I'd drown it. If wicker was my girlfriend, I'd piss on her. I fucking hate wicker.
