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Just because you can do elegant and complex stuff casually, and hold yourself to high standards does not make you a snob. Snobbery starts when you unreasonably expect others to conform to the high standards that you hold.

Expecting others to conform to reasonable standards, even if they are high, is not snobbery. And there are times and places where the standards, even high ones, should apply.


Examples from the conversation:
Whipping up a chilled curried cantaloupe soup and fresh bread for a quick cold thrown-together lunch is not snobbery, not if you're a culinary arts major and do that sort of stuff casually.
Being upset that someone else throws together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a quick cold lunch (rather than making chilled curried cantaloupe soup and fresh bread) is definitely snobbery, especially if they're not a culinary arts major.
Holding a resturant staff to high standards when you're paying for a good lunch is not snobbery.


Examples from my real life:

  • My spelling very well and using decent grammar in my own journal, comments, and communities is not snobbery, especially because it comes naturally to me.

  • My expecting someone to spell correctly and/or use decent grammar in their own journal and mocking them for the lack thereof would be snobbery, even though I would be well within my rights to insist on spelling and grammar in that same piece if it were turned in to me as a class assignment.

  • My expectation of good grammar and usage and good spelling in a published novel is normal, and I have every right to say, "Excuse me?" to the publishing house that does Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake books, and decline to buy the next one.

Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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