It's over. My love affair with the Internet is now officially dead. All that remains is the messy divorce.
I simply can't take another second seeing the mountains of bullshit that constitute the Internet. For example, this is from an article about living with chronic disease: "Living with chronic illness makes every day a little harder, but it also makes every day a little sweeter. Some days I marvel at just being alive." Bullshit! The truth is that living with a chronic disease makes every day a little harder, and that's that. Most days I marvel that I can stand being alive with my particular disease for one more second.
Then there are the stories about starlets I've never heard of posting nude selfies of their giant fake boobs, or instant cures for whatever ails you, or how they just found the world's largest bee on an island in the South Pacific, or how Kim Kardashian is getting a third butt because two cheeks simply aren't enough to satisfy her huge fan base, or some dumb quiz that will reveal your IQ if you tell them your name and address and bank account number.
Over. Done. Finished. The end. And don't get me started on Facebook.
I simply can't take another second seeing the mountains of bullshit that constitute the Internet. For example, this is from an article about living with chronic disease: "Living with chronic illness makes every day a little harder, but it also makes every day a little sweeter. Some days I marvel at just being alive." Bullshit! The truth is that living with a chronic disease makes every day a little harder, and that's that. Most days I marvel that I can stand being alive with my particular disease for one more second.
Then there are the stories about starlets I've never heard of posting nude selfies of their giant fake boobs, or instant cures for whatever ails you, or how they just found the world's largest bee on an island in the South Pacific, or how Kim Kardashian is getting a third butt because two cheeks simply aren't enough to satisfy her huge fan base, or some dumb quiz that will reveal your IQ if you tell them your name and address and bank account number.
Over. Done. Finished. The end. And don't get me started on Facebook.
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