Jori KemppiI've once heard that the demoscene is one big family. Well, here's what happens when that family gets together for Christmas.
Mom serves rutabaga casserole. Your uncle starts regaling everyone with the made-up story of how the wokes want to ban using breadcrumbs on casserole because breadcrumbs are white, and how they want to force you to use nonpareils instead because they're LGBTQ+ colored. You roll your eyes. Your uncle notices that, then singles you out and starts berating you for your hysterical behavior.
You start opening presents. Every time a gift is unwrapped, your cousin scoffs and tells everyone how much that gift sucks. You tell him to give it a rest. Your cousin then flies completely off the handle. He tells everyone about his killer left hook, and that if you have a problem with him, you have a problem with his hands, and the two of you should go outside and handle that problem like men, you absolute wimp.
The reunion is finally over. On your way home, you promise that you're skipping Christmas next year. You do enjoy the company of your brothers and sisters, but you can hang out with them any time without inviting racist uncles or fragile-egoed cousins to ruin everyone's fun. You also uninstall WhatsApp, which you're only using to have a group chat with your extended family, which turns into a mini-Christmas every two weeks.
You've promised this before, but maybe this time you won't reinstall WhatsApp, and maybe six months from now when you get the invite to the midsummer family reunion, you'll finally have the good common sense to stay home.