The internet is the world's worst kept secret. The web is full of pornography, hate speech, crime scene photos and whatever it is that Paris Hilton was doing in night vision. But we all know this. Not just readers of this site. Not just followers of my Twitter account (@jfishSOTW. Yes, this is a plug), but everybody.
Your mother uses the internet to shop for purses, knowing all too well that a few rogue clicks could land her in a minefield of transvestite midget orgies. Fathers look on in shame as they watch their children do their homework online shortly after he used the same machine to post anonymous gay sex ads on Craigslist. It truly is a wonderful place, this internet.
The internet was transformed with the advent of social media. It has not only given us the opportunity to connect with family and friends (Facebook) but also with complete strangers (Twitter). I used to think that the entire idea was to find others like myself, to seek out the rest of the depraved, soulless, unafraid jokers of the world. We all wore suits of armor in the reality, but on the web, we could be who we truly were. I wanted nothing to do with princes and princesses.
And that pretty much was the case. I found plenty of randoms to bounce AIDS jokes off of, porn search tips and heavy metal collections from. In a country where you can't smoke in bars and the best selling rock band makes Creed look like Led Zeppelin, social media really was the only place that felt like home. All of us degenerates could be together. Like Hell, only if Satan didn't have a teenage girl complex about God and just did shots with us.
But the internet isn't like my dreams of an Utopian Hades. It ain't exactly Heaven either.
The unfortunate thing about Twitter, specifically, is that while you can choose who to follow, you can't always choose who follows you.* Even if you explain on your profile that you make dead baby jokes and will randomly post pictures of mangled penises, you will inevitably get a few followers who weren't paying attention and will not enjoy your brand of social discourse.
*Unless you're like Bill Simmons and Jason Whitlock, who block anybody who doesn't continuously blow their ego and retweet every damn word they say. Though, not only is that lame, but also seems like a lot of fucking work.
Because on the internet, unlike real life, a nun can accidentally walk into a biker bar. It's a two-way street: I've followed my share of boring, family-oriented little league dads. I unfollowed, moved on and went about my day. But some people can't. Some people crawl into your hole and try to shine a light of reality on you.
I say fuck those people.
Yesterday, a follower of mine expressed her disgust at a recent tweet, which read as thus: Just saw the biggest spider I've ever seen. I am now shaking like a rape victim.
Now, for me, that is a tame tweet. And I understand if a new follower would be struck by my seemingly nonchalant attitude towards jokes of this nature. One solution to their problem would be to unfollow. Another would be to express her dislike.
Guess which road this cunt took?
I won't get into specifics of what she said - to me or to my followers. The point of bringing this up is that it gave me a clear realization of how truly disconnected we have become as a result of us being more connected than ever.
You see, with the internet, not only has the nun walked into the biker bar, but now the nun is yelling at the biker for being a biker. She isn't running away scared for her life, rather, she is asking why whiskey and women are flowing in such an establishment. This isn't strictly an internet problem either. Just ask Tracy Morgan.
Morgan has come under fire for a stand-up bit in which he said he would stab his son if he were gay. Now, there is zero chance Morgan is serious, and only a small chance that he harbors any real homophobia, but that line - much like my tweet - gave life to an image that some may cringe at.
So he's in the middle of a PR nightmare** due to making a horrible thing (homophobia) in to a beautiful thing (a joke). No, it is not for everybody. So if you were offended, then the lesson should be to not go see Tracy Morgan's set, not to try and stop Tracy Morgan from doing any sets at all.
**Unlike myself. Actually, I saw my followers get more offensive as a result, which warmed my heart more than if I found my son eating pussy while listening to Megadeth.
This is the mindset of most middle-class, God-fearing Americans: dive into the trash, complain when you get dirty. This is the internet, whose biggest export is porn and illegal downloads. If you don't want to see or hear the things that offend you, then don't go on websites or into comedy clubs where you can't control what will be typed or said.
The world is now open to sick fucks like me, and we have voices. Plug your ears and drown yourself in Grey's Anatomy if you don't like it.
I mean, to say that someone on an open forum - that you chose to participate in - should clean up their act? Well, that's.......that's........offensive.