“Weird” has become “a thing,” and that is troubling to me.
I used to dream, as a pie-eyed youngster, about a world in which goofy fun stuff happened for no reason other than pure spontaneity and joy of being, like in musicals how random strangers all start dancing, or when alien forces blow up the White House. And now that world is here (well … not so much the White House thing), and it is all just a pain in my ass.
See, we’ve now moved into a new category altogether in which “weird” is done for the benefit not of oneself or the people around you, but rather for a bunch of lame-asses sitting at home, watching on their computers. I now run the real risk of being seen hundreds of millions of times because I had the audacity to be standing in an airport line in front of you while you whored yourself out to schlep up the views on YouTube. Thanks, fucker.
Oh, I’m joyless am I? Just wait until “farting on random strangers” becomes “a thing,” and see how much you joy you have when you catch a face full of butt wind. Oh wait! It is already “a thing.” Terrific. Thanks, internet.