One of my chuddiest blood relatives, a lanyard-wearing middle manager, has a deep fixation on his coworkers “speaking foreign gibberish” around him. I don’t talk or hang around him anymore for good reason, but when I did, almost every conversation was about his most recent transcendent wine tasting experience, or his latest authentic foreign vacation where an authentic rug merchant sold him an authentic exotic rug while authentically haggling with him while offering him authentic homemade tea in his authentic quaint foreign dwelling, or him being really mad at his subordinates for “speaking foreign gibberish” in a way that makes him feel like they’re talking about him… which maybe they are because he’s a piece of shit.
his latest authentic foreign vacation where an authentic rug merchant sold him an authentic exotic rug while authentically haggling with him while offering him authentic homemade tea in his authentic quaint foreign dwelling,
When I rant about “wine cave liberals” I say so because I’ve spent too many years painfully close to Napa Valley.
It’s impressive how exactly similar the discourse you quickly sketched out in your original comment is to what I hear in from cretins coming back from airplane holidays.
Usually combined with insane stuff like “they live so simply”, “they have so little but they’re so happy”, “they really know how to relax”, “they’re so welcoming and authentic”, etc.
I guess “wine cave liberals” are universal across the empire
