I’m so tired of being yelled at by the Internet.
Hardly a day has gone by this past week that someone I’ve never met feels like it’s their job to scream at me about what I need to be doing. With exclamation points, capital letters and strategically placed ellipses, they all want to tell me what I’m doing wrong and how great my life would be if I’d just listen to them.
“Ten sandwiches you should stop eating!”
“Eight beers you MUST stop drinking right now!”
“Seventeen recipes you should ABSOLUTELY make for your kids this summer!”
“I couldn’t BELIEVE what this whale did… watch to the end to be truly amazed!”
Frankly, I’m getting a little annoyed by it all. Who gave all these people the right to yell at me? Was it some kind of reverse email hack? Did I click on some “Scream at me from the Ether” button I didn’t know about?
I gave in today and clicked on some of those links. I mean, what if my turkey and herbed havarti on dark rye with mayo and Dijon mustard was actually a silent killer, like butter and sour cream or out-of-date egg salad? If it proved worthwhile, I vowed I was going straight to my refrigerator to look for any of the “15 food you must NEVER refrigerate!” posted on Facebook.
But no, it was nothing more than a list of fast food sandwiches you shouldn’t buy – mostly, it appeared, because they were loaded with calories, carbohydrates and cholesterol, and the much healthier option that you can order at the same place instead. Here’s a thought… make your own damn sandwich and stay the hell out of fast food joints – healthier in a month, guaranteed!
The whale video was pretty cool except for the fact that it took forever to figure out what the hell they were looking at, and it’s hard to get past the guy yelling at everyone to let “Sabrina” pet the whales like they were her monkeys or something and “Sabrina” screaming “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God” in response. One minute in and I wanted to smack her and toss her overboard just to see if the mother whale would mistake her for really big krill…
I ignored the 17 recipes post because it looked like something pinteresty and I avoid giving my children organic celery and olive stuffed piñatas at all cost, since I find the actual bursting of the piñata means the green stuff blends with the grass and that’s just a waste of olives. Besides, what kid wants to eat organic anything or some food stuff that isn’t processed to within an inch of its life and covered in a layer of cheese powder? None, that’s who… are you listening Gywneth?
Instead, I got trapped in one of those headline screaming, warped, clickfests … First it was “Pictures Kim Kardashian Doesn’t Want You to see!” (which was weird, cause usually I don’t give a crap about ANY of the photos Kim Kardashian actually DOES want me to see), and that led to “Where are they now?!?!?! 33 celebrities who have DISAPPEARED!” which of course, led to “18 celebrities without their make up on!” which kinda made me wish they would disappear too.
And none of the posts were worthwhile. None of them were a valuable use of my time – then again, neither is “1,000 ways to die,” one of my guilty television pleasures, so, I can’t really use that comparison… But all of them were nothing more than a diversion from the REAL news of the weekend – who won the Belmont Stakes.
Then, even the OWNER of the damned horse started yelling at me on YouTube! Sure, the dude was pissed, but dang… one minute I’m watching the race results and the next “It’s not fair… this is the coward’s way out!…” Whatevs, dude! Tone it down a bit! I know you’re upset and all, but get a grip! Even Meatloaf said “Two out of three ain’t bad.”
We’ve got YouTube videos of Gain McInness ranting on Fox News about Neil DeGrasse Tyson. We’ve got Rush Limbaugh on Vine spewing out venom about whatever seems to pop into his head. We’ve got Alex Jones screaming in podcasts that the government is actually covering up the REAL unemployment numbers and that it’s all part of an insidious plot to take over the country.
Really, guys, quit yelling!!! Ease up on all of us a bit. It’s all just a bit much. I guess they think that they have to yell to get our attention, to make their point, to vent their inexhaustible supply of bile. But it’s tiring. It just wears me down and turns me off.
You too, Interwebs, really, stop yelling at me. I’m not going to pay any more attention to you if you’re talking to me in all caps 16-point Helvetica Bold Italic font, than I am if you’re whispering in 10-point Brush Cursive Script.
And anyone who knows me knows that telling me what to do is a sure fire way to get me to do just the opposite. It’s just not going to work anymore.
But… if you insist, by all means, keep yelling at me. Keep telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, how I must or mustn’t do yet one more thing, or how I absoluely positively have to do something right now.
Don’t say I didn’t tell you what would happen.
Now, let’s see – anybody got some of those 8 beers? I’m a little thirsty.
Maybe I’ll just yell into the kitchen and get someone to bring me one…