Ramblings From an Apathetic Adult Baby

A non-comprehensive collection

Tag Archives: humor

I’m the Most Offended. So I Win.

I will post the loudest.

 

Look at the injustices happening, World. And look at what a respectful, understanding person I am—regardless of anyone’s gender, race, creed, you name it.

 

My open-mindedness needs proclamation.

 

Far-reaching ramifications are in here; I’m sure. I probably overhead something on NPR about that. Wait, maybe that was that article on The Atlantic that I bookmarked to read.

 

Scorn, blame, hyperbolic comparisons to fascism—social media will be bombarded to a digital pulp by evidence corroborating how not homophobic, how not sexist, and how not racist I probably am.

 

This entrenched, endemic double standard needs to stop. And it starts with me posting this misremembered and misinterpreted Gandhi quote.

 

I’ve always been staunchly opposed to maltreatment and human suffering. I know it’s “in” now, but I was posting this way before all these posers.

 

Your half-hearted support for this cause is cute. Subtle really.

 

Not to say that you’re not a good person, but maybe I’m just better at being a good person.

 

One might even say a better person.

 

Are you like me, and actually nearly sobbing? I didn’t think so.

 

That’s just how connected I feel to mankind’s spirit and this ingrained abuse that I hadn’t cared or known about until a week a ago when—while comparing our Apple Watches—my friend mentioned that I should be livid.

 

I am, after all, the paradigm of the anti-bigot. The poster child for socialized correctly.

 

I should be exponentially more famous than my following would indicate.

 

My indignation might need to be laid on even thicker, like frosting on a cruelty-free, interracial, same-sex wedding cake. Each sentence more and more saturated with inflated comparisons to slavery and George Orwell.

 

Game over. I’m the most not-prejudice and I have the social outrage to prove it.

 

No one on this Internet, or any other Internets, could ever accuse me of being exploitative or intolerant.

 

Really, that only got eight likes?

 

 

 

 

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Oh, That Celebrity Died?

Right. Heard it yesterday.

 

True. Makes you think.

 

So what do want to eat? I think I like the idea of being a guy who enjoys Italian wedding more than I actually like the soup.

 

Who am I kidding, right?

 

That young? Wow.

 

Broccoli cheddar. Maybe. Usually safe. I don’t like it when it’s too heavy though.

 

It’ll be my app, I’m saying. I’m not doing the Half-Wich Wednesday thingy.

 

Broken tart-ed? Where did you see that—

 

Oh, broken heart-ed. Gotcha. Yeah.

 

Relax. No, I’m not callous.

 

Neither of us knew him personally or anything.

 

Lentil can be good.

 

Sure, slightly bummed, I suppose. It’s a little letdown whenever bad news marginally affects my life.

 

I’d say on par with craving lentil soup and discovering they’ve run out.

 

Whoa. Lower your voice and leave the lentils out of this.

 

You’re not using “devastated” right. Come on. What are you going to call it when you’re legitimately devastated?

 

Fine. Seriously, though, have you had their lentil? I’ll get it if it’s good.

 

Are you getting soup? Would it make sense to split a bowl?

 

Stop. Christ.

 

Miss, could you get him have a tissue?

 

Napkin’s fine.

 

He was on TV; he wasn’t your best friend.

 

That’s ridiculous. Nine years as friends and not a single tear shed over dying relatives, but this is “debilitating”?

 

Heartless? Fine.

 

No. You’re right. I don’t care like you do. My priorities are completely different. I emotionally invest in real people, people who have likewise invested in me through shared experience and love. You, my friend, are sobbing down a one-way street.

 

Did I see your Beirut? What?

 

Come on. Breathe.

 

Tri-bute! Got it. Sorry, you’re talking into the menu.

 

But, no. I try to stay off Facebook—especially on days like this. This stuff always makes social media, oddly, more self-centered.

 

Okay, she’s walking over. Have you tried the lentil soup here, yes or no?

 

Tell me now.

 

Fine. Yes. A life is over. I know we both liked his stuff and I know this was sudden, but, please, reassess what exactly you’re holding dear.

 

I’m doing well, thank you, Miss.

 

Sorry, we’re talking through some stuff. I think my friend needs another minute.

 

You’re sweet. No, he’ll be fine, just shaken up over Quaker deciding to kill off Cap’n Crunch.

 

 

 

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