In which Ratty draws something he hates for each letter of the alphabet and Moley takes a picture of what she hates. This week, the letter I…
Ratty: I hate ice cream. Please let me explain. I don’t *really* hate ice cream in its idealized state (which is to say “iced”) what I hate is melted ice cream and, by extension, melt*ING* ice cream. I will eat ice cream but I never enjoy it. It’s one of the most anxiety inducing things you can eat. A race against time, particularly for me, since I cannot look at and/or consume melted ice cream. To me it looks like paint. There is something about its consistency and creeping lava-like flow that terrifies me. Or maybe it’s just change that I hate. Who among us is really ready to embrace change? Least of all change at the pace of melting ice cream. Of course there are ways around it. I mean you can eat ice cream very quickly and get a small amount of enjoyment out of it but inevitably that leads to an ice cream headache and questions, “Why am I doing this to myself? Is this worth it? What if it drips on my hand or… god, my SHIRT?!”. Yeah, I hate ice cream.
[N.B. This is meant to be an ice cream cone being thrown swiftly into the trash not God throwing an ice cream down from heaven into the trash – R.]
Moley: Here’s what I hate: The impeachment that is NOT happening. I mean, I’m glad the late night hosts are bringing it and you couldn’t NOT bring it, because there are riches every day! But in the words of the inimitable Billy Eichner, “okay but seriously when do we impeach?” And I don’t even live there!