No, I didn’t like your latest Instagram post.
Why? Because it sucked. You’re lucky I’m even following you. You’re lucky I even talk to you. You’re lucky anyone talks to you. In fact, you’re lucky you don’t get knocked out, doused with gasoline, set ablaze and rolled off a cliff every time you leave the house. Here are 7 reasons I didn’t like your latest post. Lift your game, dummy.
“Bae, This is Everything, Current Mood, Sunday Morning Vibes/Feels, Those Shoes Tho, I Die, Hump Day, Current Obsession, Love.” Shut the fuck up, you inane parrot.
Pictures of Anywhere Better than Where I am.
I’m neck-deep in snow and frozen dog shit; meanwhile, you’re gallivanting on a beach. Great. Why would I like that? What’s to like about you having a much better time than me? You want likes? Post a picture of your dick being gored by a stingray.
Liked Enough Already.
1326 people liked your latest post; why do you need one more from me? Most people would be happy to break 50. Sane people wouldn’t give a shit. You’re a conceited lunatic. Get help.
‘Haters Will See You Walk On Water And Say It’s Because You Can’t Swim.’ ‘What Defines Us Is How We Rise After We Fall.’ ‘Believe You Can & You’re Halfway There.’ Thanks, Oprah. I feel so much better now. Shut up.
I love animals, but if I have to wake up and see another picture of your cute dog being cute I’m going to kill myself; but only after I brutally murder you and your mutt. Oh, you put sunglasses on him today! Awwwww! I’ll be over in a moment with a length of copper pipe. Stay put.
A balloon caught in the power lines. Some discarded flowers wilting in the rain. The tip of a palm tree in an otherwise empty photo. All very poignant, but I’d rather see a picture of me dacking you and pushing you in front of a train.
What the fuck are you doing, you narcissistic weirdo? Stop-taking-photos-of-yourself. No one wants to see you, not even the witless parrots that commented ‘this is everything’. They don’t care; they just want to join the horseshit chorus so they feel like they’re a part of something and not wasting away in their hopeless little self-made voids. They’re sad and banal, and your self-interest is really embarrassing. Please stop.