Welcome to the land of the free, the home of the brave, and the input of the snarky, selfish, and ungrateful.
“Give me your tiresome, your bored, your mumbling assholes, yearning to be mean…”
Ladies, Gentlemen, and gutless Trolls, welcome to Miserable America.
Welcome to the land of social atrophy. A world of declining decorum. A vast community that is easily offended, maligned, “done wrong,” and teetering on catastrophic outrage.
A land where very few are liked, let alone respected. Respect is reserved for the dead and famous. We have better things to do with our time. Except that we don’t. We’re too busy witch-hunting and scandal-watching, bitch-naming, hating and unloading snark, calling our boss a shitbird behind their back and playing Candy Crush. And all because deep down, we’d rather see the biggest fish fry than learn to swim ourselves.
It’s more alluring to disparage others than to improve oneself in Miserable America. Where being smart is being a nerd, being rich is being a pig, being pragmatic means you’re a pussy, and making healthy food choices somehow means you’re the worst possible connotation of ‘liberal.’ Why this makes sense makes no sense. As long as it incenses someone.
Miserable America is hypertensive, insensitive, unappreciative, and apprehensive. And any departure from the norm sends their collective mind into a tailspin.
Miserable America is quick to ostracize and slow to exonerate. They grow silent when proven wrong. Appearing to dissolve back into their anonymous avatars — only to emerge once again hatefully premature when another cynosure bleeds into the water.
Miserable America has no time for drama. Except that they do. And they devote a lot of time to it. They obsess over things that have marginal effect over their lives. Always on the ready to reflexively implode. If you don’t have an opinion, then you’re an uninformed slob. If you do have an opinion, then there’s an army out there to refute you — and speculate and underestimate the size of your genitalia. If you don’t fight back, and succumb to the comment thread mortars, then you’re just a noob — not even worth the virtue of being miserable.
And to those of you that put your smartphones down once in a while — noticing the changing opacity of the sky — you make miserable people sick. YOU ARE THE WORST. You drive them up a wall with your pleasant attitude. You make them want to take a shotgun to their MacBook. You and your refreshing spontaneity, it’s sickening. The way you smile to strangers, the way you acknowledge people and actually listen when they talk. Oh how the world is going down the toilet — thanks to shiny happy people like you! Because if you’re happy in Miserable America, then “your an idiot.”
But that’s all okay, because I too elect to not be a part of Miserable America. I vote to not give credence to smear campaigns, badger those with differing justified opinions, or fail to see any other side of a story. Instead I choose to party, to play, to enrich, and above all, to not treat all other people as if they recently emerged from my dog’s asshole.
Call me a fascist.