Fucking Will Shetterly Insults Me and My Family
Here's what he said.
Learning Micole’s class made me wonder about the class of some of my other critics, so I did a couple minutes of googling to see what they’d said on the subject. The answer, not surprisingly, is very little. There's veejane a graduate of Choate, the prep school I was kicked out of (for being caught drinking and, as I was told, being suspected of dealing drugs-my grades were around a B+, as I remember). There’s icecreamempress , who describes herself as being from a “very upper-middle-class white WASP family.” There’s vom_marlowe , whose grandmother and mine (on my father’s side) could share hardship stories, but whose college cost $30,000, so if that came from family, vom_marlowe is, at least, as privileged as I was.
For the fucking RECORD, I come from a mixed class background. My father was middle class. My mother was lower-class shit poor. My mother did not have her own underwear or clothes or bed or room, but shared with her (nine other) siblings. My parents divorced and I lived with my mother. My father was not legally obligated to support me by the results of the divorce agreement and because he is an asshole, he DID NOT. Do not anyone dare say that I should somehow have managed to get him to pay. He threatened to starve my dog when I was ten.
My first year of college, my family's entire household income was six thousand dollars. Yes, that's right. SIX FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS. I used some of my school loan book money to buy groceries for my mother because she did not have any food in the house.
When I was in college, yes, that super duper expensive college Mr Fucking Will Shetterly, I had one pair of underwear that I washed out every night before I went to bed, and if I forgot, then I wore it anyway. And if it didn't dry, I wore it wet.
When we lived in the duplex, we had rats. The landlord didn't care. The city didn't care. You want to know how to get rid of rats if you have no money? Mix chlorine bleach and ammonia together and pour it down their holes. Of course, it creates a deadly gas, but hey. You do what you gotta do. That's the kind of life I led.
That's lower class.
FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.
How DARE YOU COMPARE US, you little trust fund baby.
I worked my ass to the bone, I went gray in my twenties, I never slept, I worked every fucking holiday, every fucking vacation to get that education. Also, you're still banned.
Learning Micole’s class made me wonder about the class of some of my other critics, so I did a couple minutes of googling to see what they’d said on the subject. The answer, not surprisingly, is very little. There's veejane a graduate of Choate, the prep school I was kicked out of (for being caught drinking and, as I was told, being suspected of dealing drugs-my grades were around a B+, as I remember). There’s icecreamempress , who describes herself as being from a “very upper-middle-class white WASP family.” There’s vom_marlowe , whose grandmother and mine (on my father’s side) could share hardship stories, but whose college cost $30,000, so if that came from family, vom_marlowe is, at least, as privileged as I was.
For the fucking RECORD, I come from a mixed class background. My father was middle class. My mother was lower-class shit poor. My mother did not have her own underwear or clothes or bed or room, but shared with her (nine other) siblings. My parents divorced and I lived with my mother. My father was not legally obligated to support me by the results of the divorce agreement and because he is an asshole, he DID NOT. Do not anyone dare say that I should somehow have managed to get him to pay. He threatened to starve my dog when I was ten.
My first year of college, my family's entire household income was six thousand dollars. Yes, that's right. SIX FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS. I used some of my school loan book money to buy groceries for my mother because she did not have any food in the house.
When I was in college, yes, that super duper expensive college Mr Fucking Will Shetterly, I had one pair of underwear that I washed out every night before I went to bed, and if I forgot, then I wore it anyway. And if it didn't dry, I wore it wet.
When we lived in the duplex, we had rats. The landlord didn't care. The city didn't care. You want to know how to get rid of rats if you have no money? Mix chlorine bleach and ammonia together and pour it down their holes. Of course, it creates a deadly gas, but hey. You do what you gotta do. That's the kind of life I led.
That's lower class.
FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.
How DARE YOU COMPARE US, you little trust fund baby.
I worked my ass to the bone, I went gray in my twenties, I never slept, I worked every fucking holiday, every fucking vacation to get that education. Also, you're still banned.