I hate Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and whatever other form of social media has emerged into prominence since I typed this sentence. I am not a social person. I’m like Jerry Seinfeld – I have three friends and no scope for new applicants. In short, I hate people. The human race disgusts me. Why then, would I possibly want to torture myself by frequenting one of these awful sites and find out what these dullards are doing with their lives? If I want to know so desperately, you know what I do: I call them up and/or meet up with them and have – gasp – a face-to-face conversation. Remember those, kids? I hate to come off like a curmudgeonly old man, but maybe I need to face up to what I am: a grizzly misanthrope of the highest order. And you know what? I’m damn proud to be considered one.
I can’t believe the ego of some of the people that post their daily occurrences on these sites. Their level of self-importance is deplorable, and embarrassing for all concerned. Do we really need to know that your puppy has explosive diarrhea, or that Daft Punk’s new single is “just fabulous”? How about that breakfast you’re eating? Why not take a photo of the plate and send it through, because I had no idea what Eggs Benedict looked like until you came along and shed some light on it.
The world is caving in on itself, and we’re all just watching it happen.