As someone who has an internet connection and a masochistic streak a mile wide, I occasionally read the comments sections on websites. I think a really intriguing study could be done on the degeneration of society just by observing how long it takes a site's commentators to devolve into mindless, gibbering idiots whose only goal in paying every month for internet service is to publicly lambaste another human being until he or she actually begins to hate being alive. Sites such as Newsday might be able to manage a month, maybe three, before reaching their current level of debasedness (<- I made this word up, but it works so I don't care nananananana). Youtube, considering it acts only as a medium for the commentators to post media themselves, would manage maybe a week before spiraling into a black hole of idiocy and dragging the rest of the internet with it. Cracked.com managed maybe 15 seconds, but I think they expected the worst to begin with so maybe they don't count.
However, I was utterly shocked to find a comment so inane, so completely RANDOM attached to this blog that I was dumbstruck searching for an explanation. My colleagues (read: overlords) did little better than I, and so I embark upon an attempt to deconstruct this enigma in the hopes of finding enlightenment in the chaos of internet comments. Please note that my brain has been addled by spindle painting today, so bear with me.
First, the comment:
Her whole family is preditory. That father of hers complaining HARD about his $150,000/year salary.Let's go piece-by-piece here, lest anyone's head unintentionally explode from the sheer randomosity of this gem. "Her whole family is preditory," eh? Well that's a damn shame. Wait, who the hell is she? Was I mistaken for a woman? That puts a very interesting spin on my article about the topless coffee house, what with the declaration of my manhood and all. Perhaps they meant my sister? That makes a little more sense, although I don't think she talks about private things such as our father's income. Also, if that's the right route and I am being accused of preditoriality (see, I can make up words too, Mr/Ms Commentator Person!), I'd like to know exactly what that is in case I'm ever charged with it. Perhaps s/he means "pre-editory" and just felt like saving us a letter? Well, pre-editory seems kind of redundant, since editing before is...well, editing! Speaking of editing, this whole piece could've used a little work, at least a once-over or something. Anyway, let's move on.
Now we all know where she gets it.
Should be automated anyways. You let the blacks in New Orleans off.
Barely skilled labor.
Reincarnated as milking cows, ironically.
"Now we all know where she gets it." Who in the what now? We still don't know who "she" is, or what she's getting. The aforementioned preditorialism? Or a cut of that moolah? Maybe she's getting a present! I know I'd like a present. Hey, how about a free coffee at that topless place? Oh wait, we can't go there because it burned down. THANKS FOR THE REMINDER, MS/MR/ROBOT COMMENTATOR PERSON! I'm going to go cry in a corner, excuse me...
Okay, I'm good now. Really, I can type and choke back tears at the same time, it's okay. Besides, our alien commentator from Neptune (seriously, I checked the IP address) offers these words of encouragement: "should be automated anyways." Don't you feel better know it should be automated? I've always thought that myself. Unless we're talking about the topless serving of coffee, that really can't be automated without messy results. Although I'd make a mint in the potential therapy cases! I can see it now: "I'm just so confused Doctor, she was standing there all shiny and pneumatic, I just couldn't help myself!" Shit, Robotic Sexual Confusion Syndrome will be my baby, nobody touch my acronym!
While I'm on the phone with my lawyer to get this name patented, might as well keep going. "You let the black in New Orleans off." Here, I really can't fault Neptunian Robot Commentator, I did allow the black in New Orleans to just slip right through my fingers. Of course, I don't know whether our friend means a sticker that reads "New Orleans" that I didn't care for properly, or the entire Black population of the city. No offense folks, but have you been to New Orleans? I'm pretty sure anyone there could take me in a fight, so I'm not in a position to be enforcing anything down there. That five-year old? Totally kick my ass if I tried to keep him from riding his tricycle. So I apologize for my failings as a non-letter-offer, but I'm only human dammit! As opposed to our commentator, but I digress.
Gonna combine the final two for brevity's sake (yeah, clearly I had brevity's best interests in mind with this article.) "Barely skilled labor. Reincarnated as milking cows, ironically." Okay, you lost me here, what in the hell are you going on about now? Am I the barely skilled labor? Are we still talking about New Orleans? Because in New Orleans I would be barely skilled labor, unless you needed an assistant to make gumbo or something, I watch the Food Network after all (I apologize to ESC for any loss of New Orleans based readership for my careless association of the city with gumbo, truly a gaffe on my part). Are the topless baristas the barely skilled labor? 'Cause they're still more skilled than I am, can't make coffee for shit. Oh no, the tears again! Don't cry, suck it up, there you go...
Wait, reincarnation? Why would barely skilled labor come back to life as prized livestock? You know, if it weren't for those reincarnated milking cows you and I would have bones too brittle to type or read the internet! Well, except for the commentator, who is clearly a robot and thus has no need for calcium. OR DOES IT?! Is this all a ploy to dissuade us from drinking the milk of reincarnated cows, so that the Neptunian Robot can gain its life sustaining calcium and secure its bid for world domination?! I have you all figured out now, fiend! A battle to the death it is!
...or, you know, maybe they posted on the wrong blog. Could be either one, really. Does this mean I have to return the pitchfork?