First of all, if you’re the type of person that’s easily offended, you may want to stop reading right about now because it’s all downhill from here. I don’t need my inbox overflowing with teary-eyed, long-winded emails from you cry-baby pussies to validate how accurate my commentary is. I’m not trying to dismantle anyone’s life, but if your shit happens to get ruined as a result of this article, well, maybe you should be a little smarter next time. Let’s talk about social networking.
You ever see something so amazingly stupid that you have no choice but to eat your own face? But then you discover that the only good side dish for face is a nice shotgun blast to the chest? That only marginally describes the pain you’ll endure when scrolling through the average idiot’s Facebook feed. With each new annoying trend in Social Media comes a new reason to consider using genitals as an alternative fuel. For the slow people reading this, having a car that runs on 10% ethanol and 90% dick may be the only way to keep you morons from reproducing.
Since this whole “1 million likes” bullshit caught fire, I’ve singlehandedly donated over a billion dollars to the Virgin Pride Abstinence Foundation, yet this crap is still showing up on my feed. Hell, I can’t even turn my monitor on for two seconds anymore without seeing some asshole pissing and moaning all over every last wall for likes (which ranks Facebook just below a drunk with an air horn on the universal scale of tolerability). Attention losers: it takes no talent to get a million likes when the world has an insatiable click fetish. You can give a laptop to a vial of goat cum and it’ll find a way to generate a million likes. That means that anyone who’s sought out to get a million likes at any point in their life and hasn’t by now should probably start plowing fields.
I think parents need a big round of applause for their contributions. Somehow they’ve managed to breed a race of genetically engineered super-idiots without a single ounce of foresight. Don’t you people think at all before you post shit on the Internet? I mean, is there some kind of birth defect I don’t know about that renders you utterly incapable of not posting total shit constantly? For those of you that live under a fucking rock, here’s what I’m talking about. Just try looking at this picture without getting a concussion:
Son of a bitch! I just checked myself into Hospice! Even my Grandma who’s hardcore into planking thinks people who post these are total botards. There’s a certain level of “asking for it” you must be willing to accept when putting pig shit like this on display. That sign might as well read, “Dear Facebook, please rip me a new one.” Why not? Same message. The guy pictured is Petter Kverneng, and he had this to say in response to his ultra-poor decision making:
“It was meant as a joke for our group of friends.”
News flash, Petter: the joke is that your position in the friend zone is permanent, not rotational. When I have a joke for my friends, you know what I do? I send it through a fucking text so it doesn’t go viral. Yes, all of my jokes are so good, they could all potentially go viral. NEXT!
I tried my fucking ass off to leave the kids out of it, but I had a rare moment of weakness. I won’t lay into them too hard, but I will say this: clearly they don’t get whacked enough if they’re still asking for shit after their parents said “no.” I remember when I asked my parents for a puppy. I won’t get into specifics about what happened, but if you’d like the gist of it, just pick any scene from Saw and multiply it by four. Now I know what you’re thinking. “So wait a minute. You mean to tell me that children, who lack the ability to foresee negative repercussions from their actions, popularized this trend, and somehow there were adults that were not only dumb enough to follow suit, but dumb enough to take it a few steps farther?” Apparently. Moving on. Petter Kverneng’s inability to pull a single pussy without the help of millions comes in a close second place to this next tool shed:
Hey buddy. You know why your wife doesn’t want to get pregnant? Because then she can’t have sex with other guys. I’m not kidding. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a bigger fairy in my entire life, and I even went to see Tinker Bell in IMAX (by myself). Maybe I’ll do this guy a favor and call Extreme Makeover: Rediscover Your Balls Edition. Or maybe I’ll send him this really good article I read a while back on how to break up with your girlfriend like a man. It’s the best article ever written on the subject and elevates the plateau of enlightenment. Holy shit, did I write that article, too? Fuck, I rule. Here’s another plea that nearly drove me to suicide:
Whoops, wrong picture. But since you brought it up, let me tell you about how much I hate Scott Disick. This is hands down the worst picture on the Internet. Scott Disick’s face has been number one on the list of places I’d like to plant a flying elbow since May 26, 1983. Look at him just standing there next to the “Miss Universe Las Vegas 2012” backdrop. Okay Scott, we get it. You think you’re Miss Motherfucking Universe. Get a life! Let the girls have something. Every time he talks I become terminally ill. When I was on my death bed a few years back, the doctor told me that Scott needed surgery on his hand after slugging a mirror in a fit of drunken rage. That was the best day of my life. I made a miraculous recovery in a matter of seconds. If I had to say one nice thing about Scott—and I wouldn’t—but if I did, I’d say that at least he doesn’t have carpal tunnel from clicking on Facebook links all day like the rest of you.
You know why I don’t click on shit like this? Because I’m an adult. Just when you think you’ve seen it all. This one is obviously a joke, but then again, assuming that all of you know this gives most of you way too much credit. Did you dumbasses honestly think this guy would name his kid Megatron? It makes me puke on babies knowing you can post something that stupid and have well over a million people liking it. What that tells me is that I can make a page called, “1 Million Likes and I’ll Name My Kid Butt Rape Boulder Storm Spectacular Waaahhh,” and I’d have no problem reaching my goal. Unreal.
Facebook has no limit on the amount of industrial-strength stupid you can see in one day. How about those dumb, made-up, and continuously recycled sob stories you’ll see from huge assholes on their magical everlasting quest for attention? Sure, some of the stories are completely valid, but most of them aren’t, so go put your head through a wall. The authors know that 99.99% of people feel that empathy is conveyed through the “like” button, and all they need to do is tug on your emotional strings because you’re all suckers. They’ll say something like, “my brother turned his cell phone off and our Uncle tried texting him because he was being gangbanged by a colony of giant spiders, but since his phone was off my Uncle died. Don’t ever turn your phone off!” That was so dumb, I think I just shit myself while writing that. But again, since you’re all suckers, each picture is guaranteed to reach 8 trillion likes and become the only picture left on anyone’s feed.
Even more irritating are the idiots that post something so generic, there’s not even a remote possibility that it hasn’t happened to you. For example, “like this if you’ve ever felt sleepy in class!” NO, YOU DUMB COCK! I WAKE UP AT 6 AM EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR CLASS AND NEVER ONCE HAVE I EVER BEEN TIRED! Sounds pretty stupid, right? Well, that’s because it is. But there are thousands of fan pages founded on the principle of generic spew, almost as if their sole purpose was to create the world’s largest shit-festival of spam and turn Facebook into an endurance test, yet somehow they still manage to get hundreds of thousands of underdeveloped followers. I’d rather take a trident to the face every day for the rest of my life than support this bullshit.
My astute observations have led me to believe that all of you have a fucking disease. Not just the people who post these dumb pleas for likes, but also anyone who can’t stop clicking on them long enough to get a drink of water. It’s like an adrenaline rush for you morons and I don’t know if rehab will cut it. Maybe snapping some necks will, but that’s beside the point. There’s a reason avid Facebook users are so skinny. It’s from all the calories they burn traveling back in time so they can click on “like” for 36 hours a day. Pop quiz: how do you get these people to stop liking every single post? By making them get up to change their underwear:
It’s time for everyone to stop ruining Facebook. No more clamoring for likes and no more made-up sob stories. If you want some personal attention, hire a whore. To end the bullshit, I made a Facebook page. I realize that I’m contradicting myself straight to Hell by doing this, so spare me. Everything’s a lot more awesome when I do it, and let’s be real—it’s for a good cause. You’ll find the page here. Like it, share it, and stop being an asshole. Hopefully your feed will return to normal soon, then all of you can feast on my nuts. Thanks, and fuck you all very much.