Spurred on by all the accounts of other INTPs and their lackadaisical approach to style ('why do I need new clothes when I still have old clothes that work just fine?'), I've decided to be daring and order a jacket that isn't basic black, dark grey or just-ignore-me-I'm-a-passerby brown*. (I need a new one anyway; it'll be winter soon and all my
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phew! thank goodness for the gay gene.
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Not unless I were a) a pretty white man with bleached blonde hair and many piercings, or b) his tiny fragile-looking girlfriend with kohl all around her eyes, and we were c) in a grim industrial future.
I don't make the rules.
phew! thank goodness for the gay gene.
Sadly, it is so often overruled by the presence of the Geek Gene. :¬(
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Augh, no. I'd just started to warm to him and his Tortured Soul when he basically raped the femme fatale in his apartment (srsly, that would've been all sorts of dubious even if he hadn't resorted to kink-violence; he's a 'blade runner', after all, and she's a replicant on the run, and he's just come home from shooting that other poor girl, and - I'm beginning to rant all over again).
I was just telling pfeffernuesse that I loved everything about 'Blade Runner' but the story, and that is pretty much the tipping point. If you're going to have a stonefaced, close-mouthed noir hero, you have to give him a secret heart of gold, or why bother?
::uses most replicanty icon::
::this turns out to be Shirley Manson from Bond Island again::
::oh, she'd dig it::
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