Monday, November 8, 2021

I feel roasted

I get a lot of stupid shit in my social media feed. Much of it is self inflicted. For instance, on Linkedin I purposely follow schmucks like Gary Vaynerchuck and Grant Cardone just to see their inane posts about "crushing it."

Last week Grant posted a video interview of himself, where he shamelessly tells the camera, "Everyday I get a sheet of paper that tells me how much CASH I have. It's not like I'm bragging or anything, it's just that I hate CASH and need to find ways to get rid of it so that it's bringing in more CASH." 

Followed by a pitch for another one of his shabby motivational books. Here's the latest cheesiness from this charlatan.

On Facebook, I intentionally join groups that will raise my heart rate and set me off, like the Kayleigh McCenany Fan Club Page. That right, the lyingest liar in the history of lying has her own fan club. 

And on Twitter I make it a point to follow, ok and to troll, folks like Stephen Miller, Mark Meadows, Kirstie Alley and until recently, Emerald Robinson. Don't know who she is? Well, she is rabid Trumpster who works (or worked) for NewsMax. 

She was just suspended from Twitter for posting disinformation about the vaccine. Claiming it contained bits of LUCIFERase, a bioluminescent that could be used by the government to track people. I'm gonna miss Emerald, particularly since she would often spar with me and put forth her wacky Red Hat opinions in digital ink. Oh Em!

A few days ago, something from came up in my scroll. Maybe because I'm 44 years old I'm a little out of touch with pop culture, but I had never heard of them before. Nor did I have any idea that kids today have been soliciting insults with the hash tags RoastMe

I never knew of this phenomena, but now that I do, I love it.

I won't go into the psychology of asking complete strangers to defile, mock and savagely ridicule one's self. I understand the need for attention. You could even argue that this blog and my never-ending potshots at the previous Shitgibbon regime make me guilty of the same.

I'm much more impressed with the roasts themselves. 

Some are so fucking good.They're colorful. imaginative. And cutting, with the precision of one of those granite-coated knives sold on late night TV. 6 knives for $29.99? They can't be any good right?

The picture above is one of my favorites. But there are so, so many. 

Of course, after the chortling and guffawing, I often find myself sad and depressed. 

As all writers, I like to believe I have a special and unique command of the language and a particular mastery of the putdown. That belief has been shattered by the millions of would be roasters who are lying in wait for the next attention-starved victim.


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