There are many joys being locked in with a teenager for an extended time. Extra Lockdown 3.0 has given me the time to go on exciting endeavours like delving through my junk mail folder and scoring lovely new online connections. I received this beautiful comment on a Facebook post:
I must confess and thank you so much my friend request. Although I translated to your language and hope you don’t mind, you are beautiful? My new best mate is clearly a high ranking, good looking Army General based in Texas.
I’m filled with happiness when complete strangers with expertise in marketing or real estate sales in their bios try to add me as a connection, and nothing makes me feel more soothed than the comments written by professional networkers on Scotty from marketing’s LinkedIn posts.
I’m revelling in reading long essays by conspiracy theorists with obvious expertise in epidemiology commenting on health professionals’ social media posts; relaxing reading that I highly recommend in the middle of a pandemic.
I’m deeply moved by the inspirational quotes obviously written by Gandhi, Jesus and that lady influenza who promotes yoga pants on Instagram. I feel so motivated now that genuine celebrities are following and messaging me on Twitter. I am focused on success instead of endless hours of TV watching.
And I’m humbled that I’ve secured a large sum of money from long-lost distant relatives in far-flung places who only want what’s best for me.
I can’t tell you how exciting it is to know that I can buy healing anti inflammatory lollies from one of my online mates who did extensive research on YouTube. Honestly, I can’t tell you.
Like, I’m really, really, really like energised by social commentary online, like for reals totes legit like, as the people I gave birth to love me to exclaim regularly in front of their friends in enclosed public spaces while I’m hitting the chardy. Sorry. Like I forgot about the pandemic pandemonium for a second there.
No really, I’m thrilled by your business opportunities, I haven’t left the chat permanently, I’m just having a nanna nap for a couple of years.
Ways to help ourselves in the time of covid19:
Avoid expert guidance from wealthy influencers who live in massive houses when you’re stuck in a small flat
Turn off the TV when the corona virus celebrity advice special comes on
Avoid listening to politicians who talk endlessly about the economy. We’re a community
Borrow a dog or a cat or a rabbit and stroke their fur to lower blood pressure
Wear your pyjamas all day if it helps
Send a postcard to a nursing home wishing the locked away oldies and nursing staff well
Check on your neighbours
Burn your bra
Enjoy your sleep in
Cherish your time off the treadmill
Dream a little dream
Watch Gene Kelly dance in Singing In The Rain
This week we learned that we must no longer go online because bad people will steal our identities, our children will turn into Minecraft addicted zombie bots (too late) and we’ll all start speaking Russian and worshipping Putin.
This is a blog post about why you shouldn’t be reading my blog online because your health will suffer. It is harmful to be on the Internet. Please direct lots of people here and make a habit of visiting my site because it will help my stats, but don’t become dependent. It will be your fault dear readers if you give me insomnia while I stay up all night dealing with all the comments and emails and awkward conversations that your online obsession provokes. You’ll be fine on my blog, but don’t visit any other websites, and please make sure you don’t tell Cambridge Analytica that you have been reading this post. And don’t comment with the F word or Mark Zuckerberg’s lawyers will come to your house late at night and steal your thoughts.
Isn’t our world moronic? Don’t you think?
This post has been brought to you by the Alanis Morrissette school of irony and Instagram influencer mothers posting photos of their kids playing #devicefree and #technologyfree while those mothers profit from these same kids’ lives on social media.
Dear selfie kings and queens,
Here’s a revolutionary idea for you when posting to your millions of followers on Instagram: Your posts can be edited.
Call me old fashioned but if you profess to be an expert in your field, perhaps you could proudly display that you can grasp the basic idea of stringing a sentence together?
Maybe proclaiming that youre / your / ur a thought leader then displaying a smorgasbord of unedited grammar and spelling mistakes is not ideal for your brand. If you’re claiming to help people get millions of followers perhaps it would help if you were mildly literate.
It’s bad enough when Insta ‘celebratiez’ post photos of their ugly children, but recently, on her Insta feed, well-known personal trainer MB posted the words,
All be it
I think the word she was looking for was albeit. Really. I’m going to start a heartfelt crowdfunding campaign for the poor lady, she obviously can’t afford to pay someone to proofread her life-changing posts.
Pert ladies and buff gents, you know that tweets can’t be edited (looking at you idiot President number 45) but all your other brilliant revolutionary thoughts on other social media channels can. How about you learn to use the delete button and maybe send a text to a friend who can spell so they can read your genius ideas before you pay to boost your inspo post?
I really love that your /ur / youre a lifestyle guru and new media-savvy social influencer. Honestly I do. But if you want to be a disruptor (gag) then maybe read your ‘next ‘level’ post before you hit the share button…
We hope you enjoyed your stay in our hotel. Please fill out this survey so we can judge your level of customer satisfaction and we can annoy our staff with ridiculous statistics about their performance, even though you had one conversation with them that lasted all of two minutes. These surveys will take longer to answer than your actual stay in our facility.
In a few days we’d like to call you to discuss the results of our tedious marketing logarithms.
Don’t call me when I’m feeding my kids
When I say I don’t have time for your idiot questions, I don’t have time, fuck off
Don’t call or email me when I buy a new phone, change my plan, check out of your hotel, buy groceries, fill up the car, change a frigging light bulb!
And stop paying idiots with dodgy marketing degrees to come up with new buzz words du jour:
If you have to use the hash tag #authentic then perhaps you’re not
Please join our social networking channels, which have content about as interesting as having a pap smear. Enough. There are too many places to waste time already, I’ve lost track of the names:
How about we all go to a party down the road and argue in real time. I’ll bring a pie
I’m not Catholic but I think I need to ‘fess up about my online habits. I have an addiction to Instagram, I get work from Facebook connections and I read crap about idiot politicians on Twitter. My addiction to lurking is not completely out of control, I know that Google + is pointless, and the only time I use LinkedIn is when my mother’s dementia flares up and I’m talking on the phone with her for the third or fourth time in one day and listening to stories she has already told me 100 times. So I connect with people on LinkedIn in order to emotionally disconnect from the feeling that the mother I knew has gone forever. My siblings and I are mourning her loss before she has left us and social media helps me feel somehow less powerless.
I’m the youngest of four children and my mum dedicated her life to us so I’m slowly losing my biggest fan. I know that the Internet can’t fill the void but some nights watching tragic bands from the 80s on YouTube helps.
Once upon a time there were God botherers and L. Ron Hubbard believers. Now there are so many self-help gurus in our world that I don’t know who to believe any more. I recently read a paid post on Facebook that I feel compelled to share. The two comments below the post made it extra special:
Robin Banks (really)
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Bec Davy Having faith in God and hope through his strength and grace and awesomeness allows u to achieve all your goals and live a life of abundance…. Service and happiness and peace
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Stacey Donnelly Dick head
Like · Reply · 23 October at 23:23