Jun 25 2012
You. Specifically you. You are a crybaby. I am talking directly to you. I know you. You know, good old “Your Name.” Hey. You’re a big time crybaby.
I know this for a fact. Correct me if I’m wrong, but as you’re reading this aren’t you a little upset that I just called you a crybaby? A little part of you is saying “I’m not a crybaby, this guy is wrong” or “Man, what a bummer that this guy is so negative about calling people crybabies; you know, loosen up, guy” or “This hilarious guy must be talking about some crybabies that are not me, ha ha ha” or “I see what this guy is trying to do here. Nice try, guy trying to do a thing, I’m too smart for that.” Guess what? All of those responses mean one thing and one thing only: “booo hoo hoo, I am a crybaby.”
That’s how I know you are one. A crybaby.
I know what I’m talking about. I have full authority to ask the question: “Why are you such a fucking crybaby, huh?“ I am an expert on crybabies. You know why? Because I say so and I’m here and you’re not. Okay? I am allowed to call you a crybaby. I’m on the internet. Right now. I’m occupying this space on the internet and you’re not, and this space is permanently reserved for me calling you a crybaby. Think of it as a sign that says “CRYBABY” under a mirror, and the only thing you can see in it is YOUR FACE. I put the sign up. It’s my sign. I get to do this because I thought of it and you didn’t. What are you gonna do about it? Nothing. Nothing but cry me a river made of baby tears. You can’t change the fact that I just called you a crybaby. You’re too late. I’m already here.
Crybabies are made of two things: crying, and babies. The term “crybaby” is itself a colloquial shortening of the phrase “crying baby.” Hey, did you know that? “Crybaby” comes in handy because that’s what all people are all the time no matter what these days. Including, especially, you.
You know why?
Because thanks to boring technical explanation, everybody everywhere these days doesn’t have to expose themselves to anything they don’t like, and if they don’t like something they get to tell the whole world about it instantly right there on the spot. Did you know that? I bet you did, you fucking crybaby. I bet you tweeted all about it. I bet the last time you were in the grocery store line behind a lady with Elephantiasis arguing about the expiration date on a coupon for fabric softeners, you tweeted and tumblred and texted and Facebooked and blogged your little stupid baby head off about it. Tweeted like a crying baby who cries when something’s not right and they don’t know what to do about it except cry.
I know that’s what I did.
Feel free to look about you. Anywhere on the internet. You will see only one thing: the cries of babies. “Waah waaahh, the Republican National Committee is subtly encouraging through permission the slander of the office of the POTUS, boo hoo!” “The new iPhone 5 is ga ga goo goo, I’m Booo Hooo.” “I’m this thing, not THAT thing.” ET CETERA.
Since the internet connects everybody all the time into one massive pool of electronic consciousness, it makes some amount of sense that the only thing we want to do on it is assert our individuality. What amount of sense does it make? The same amount of sense a BABY makes when it is CRYING. “Hey, I’m a baby over here, don’t forget about me! I’m tired and hungry and cold and I’m covered in my own shit! Hey! I’m different from other things! You should notice me and do something about me!” YOU KNOW. CRYBABY SHIT.
Look at the internet, and a majority of the crybabies on it are saying one thing: I’m different. I like THIS, not THAT. I think THIS is RIGHT and THAT is WRONG! I KNOW about THIS and YOU DON’T. Why are they saying those things? Because they think if they are different from everything else, people will notice them and like them. It’s a classic paradox of the crying baby. “I’m screaming my fucking head off like some kind of an asshole! Drop everything, come over here, and help me!” Nice try, fucking baby. You’re not my problem. How it works is: you cry, I walk away and go get a popsicle from the kitchen.
Here’s an example of something a crybaby would say: “You guys are all crybabies, and I am not a crybaby.” Guess what, crybaby? You just cried like a big stupid baby about not being a crybaby. You may be familiar with this particular cry of a baby from such things as everything I just said. What can I do about that? What can any crybaby do? Just be honest. Cut to the chase. Instead of crying like a baby about this and that, just say, “I am a crying baby! Now that I have your attention, could I please suck on some titties? That’s all I want.”
Guess what, you guys: I would like to suck on some titties. Always. Just being honest, here.
What’s the opposite of a crybaby? An adultdo-y. Adultdo-ies are not on the internet. They’re out there adult doing things. They are not upset that I called them a crybaby. They’re too busy being adults and doing things. Sometimes they take a break and look at the internet. When they do, what happens is they either like something or don’t. If they don’t, what they do is they just stop being on the internet. If they do like something, they say “LOL” to it. “LOL” is like the internet version of “om” from Siddhartha. It means “we are all connected, we are all the same, OMG I am laughing out loud right now at how great it is to be alive.” Life is too short not to LOL, you guys.
What are the adultdo-ies out there doing? I don’t know. Probably they’re out there sucking on our nation’s titties. Somebody is. I know I’m not. Waaahh to that. Waaaah to that a whole lot, you guys. Am I right? LOL.
Previously: Regular Human Beings
I Attended a Juggalo Wedding at the Gathering of the Juggalos
I Hunted Feral Hogs in Florida as a Favor to the World
My Week with Sydney
Reasons Why Comic-Con Is the Worst Place Ever
An Interview with a Guy Who Can't Sleep Because He Is Afraid of Dying
A Rigged Indian Casino Karaoke Contest Was the Low Point of My Life
The Jim Norton Show: Mike Tyson and Dana White - Part 2
Should We Look at and Share Photos of Dead Civilians in Gaza?
A Few Impressions: Watch James Franco's Short Film, 'The Clerk's Tale,' Based on a Poem by Spencer Reece
One of Our Writers Went on an All-Alcohol Diet for a Week