Wednesday, 1 May 2013

Why 'Facebook stream' should remain a metaphor / STOP POSTING ABOUT YOUR CHILD'S PISS


It's been fucking ages since I wrote anything on any of my blogs.

IS THAT THE SOUND OF YOUR BROKEN, TORTURED SOBBING I HEAR?

Anyhow. Something momentous must've been required to rouse me from my lethargic blogslumber. What could it have been?

It was this.

It was the realisation — too burning, too pressing not to share immediately — that PEOPLE ON FACEBOOK NEED TO WISE THE FUCK UP.

I'm not sure when it was that this realisation hit me. Perhaps it was whe— oh, no, sorry, I just remembered when it was. It was when, incredulous, I read some blathering fuck boasting that her child had done a stand-up piss for the first time.

Lucifer on stilts! We sequenced the human fucking genome, people. We created the game of chess, then we sodding well built machines that can beat us at it. Hell — we invented Daim bars. FUCKING DAIM BARS, I TELL YOU.

I do not want to hear that your fat child can urinate whilst wobbling unsteadily on his clumpy little legs.

Because I've seen the aftermath left by children who've supposedly 'learnt' to do this. And I do not deem said aftermath to be even remotely worthy of celebration. Indeed, I would go so far as to suggest that if you consider your firstborn's bipedal excretions a legitimate source of pride, you are quite possibly everything that makes this world lousy, and your child is likely to inherit so hideously warped a sense of entitlement to scatological praise that he is likely to end up pursuing a career in a particularly repugnant niche of the pornographic industry.

So. I've compiled a handy list of questions I'd like parents to ask themselves before posting a Facebook status update about their children.


  1. Are you singling out an aptitude of your child that is also possessed by (for instance) a fucking kangaroo?
  2. Do you believe it is appropriate to phrase your status update (to be read almost exclusively by adults) in the kind of obscenely moronic, gurgling baby talk you (unnecessarily) employ when addressing your abominable brat directly?
  3. Do you have any kind of doubt as to when it is — and when it is not — necessary to refer to yourself in the third person? Hint: it is never necessary.
  4. Are you, somewhere in the saccharine-infused recesses of your heart, actually just incredibly, incredibly, pitifully bored with the drab monotony of your tedious, aching, mediocre life?


If the answer to any of the above is yes, for the sake of the risen Christ, wise the fuck up and stop polluting my stream.

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