Saturday, March 26, 2011

Zuckerberg Poops His Chinos

The little fucker Zuckerberg is frequently under attack on Facebook. In fact, the "little fucker Zuckerberg" is a term of disaffection that I keep coming across, I didn't make it up. What motivates this anger seems to be about how Facebook keeps changing the layout and way in which one may tweak privacy settings. It doesn't really bother me. At least that's not what annoys me about Zuckerberg.

What does annoy me is that, according to the film, "The Social Network," Zuckerberg is a total prick. He is also an amazingly successful young man. That level of success makes me want to hit him in the face with a lemon pie. A frozen lemon pie. He's just too damn adept, talented and accomplished. At the age of 26, he's a billionaire responsible for changing the way hundreds of millions of people socialize with each other. Facebook has changed the way products are marketed, people communicate, and short videos of "Hitler cats" go viral.

He needs to be stopped. He is making us all look bad. The age of 26 found me a thousand-aire, in a nut-house, and ensconced in self-pity after a failed relationship. At that age, I was shooing homeless drug-addicts away from my cot in the men's dorm at The Arbour. I'll bet that Mr. Zuckerberg never had to feign a loud cough to discourage a frantically masturbating ne'er-do-well two cots over.

As I said, 26 found me madly in love with a young lady who returned my love for about 4 months before dumping me with extreme prejudice. Most of 1998 had me stomping about town, screaming like Frankenstein's creature, clutching my chest and holding my head. Not unlike John Cusack in High Fidelity.

Later that year, I nearly broke up a marriage when a woman cheated on her husband and used me as one might use a blow-up doll. Keep reaching for the stars!

The man simply has it together and knows what he is doing, with a vengeance. He should be proud of himself. Yup. But it annoys me. Those Germans have a word for taking pleasure in the suffering of others, and that word is "shadenfreude." It's low and trite of me, but I confess no small amount of pleasure in knowing that life eventually squashes all of us. With any luck, it will be a woman who does the deed. Not that I wish unrequited love on anyone (except, apparently, Mark Zuckerberg), but it's a reliable humbler. A de-egofier. Look what women-folk did to Tiger Woods. The man was the greatest golfer in the history of mankind before his affair went public. Now, he wears a look of vague confusion on his face and can't win a tournament to save his life. He's rated 5th in the world and falling. Yup, the ladies will always flick you off of the top of the world like a dried-up booger.

I could look at Zuckerberg and feel inspired, and perhaps to feel motivated enough to turn my life around. To admire the little fuck-face. Yeah, I could do that. It's easier, however, to wish for a piano to fall on his head, or that he'll get lost in his house and not emerge for several years (it's a big house). The image of him with a beard, stinking with body odor and suffering from scurvy, pleases me.
As I said, though, he'll probably get knocked down a peg or five in the wake of a failed relationship. An infatuated Zuckerberg using gasoline to spell out, "Take me back, you bitch!" on some poor woman's lawn may happen one day. Hell, an ingrown toenail may be enough, or a fart that leads to him shitting himself, or an "Internetting" accident that leads to his pinky finger getting sheered off. Anything to show that he is a fragile human being.

Not nice of me.

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