Likeotomy
Doctors performing likeotomy on a volunteer subject.
A reading from the book of Demotivational Dictionary:
likeotomy |līˈkätəmē|
noun (pl. likeotomies) [ usu. in sing. ]
usage of the “favorite” button on tweets about my lobotomy: too bad you are now unable to grok the likeotomy I gave you.
A reading from the book of Demotivational Dictionary.
I’m pretty much a collector of likes. Feel free to share one of your own. I always appreciate them. I think.
[I] want to say thank you to you. I haven’t had an orthodox career and I’ve wanted more than anything to have your respect. The first time I didn’t feel it, but this time I feel it. And I can’t deny the fact that you like me. Right now, you like me! Thank you.
–Sally Fields, March 25, 1985
Sally Field about to bludgeon a cretin who failed to favorite her tweet.
Thank you, Ms. Fields. That’s exactly how I feel each and every time one of my tweets gets a star on the Twitter Walk of Shame. I’ve personally counted more visits by Halley’s Comet, though.
It works like this: You see a tweet you like (or some other masturbatory form of social media expression) and you like it. So you click the little icon that means favorite, like, upvote, star and/or what not. What’s so hard to understand about that?!
It turns out that “like” is sometimes the wrong tone.
“My father molested me every single day until I was eight years old.”
Do you think, somehow, that “like” seems misplaced here?
Garden Party
I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn’t look the same
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please yourself
–Ricky Nelson
Let’s just say that I’m not the most social wildebeest in the herd. Ya think? So when an invitation comes my way it’s a big, big decision. A really big decision. Monumental. Did I mention yet that it is big?
Of course I don’t want to go. That’s a given. That part is never open to debate. The only question is should I go? Put in an appearance, as it were. My normal procedure, if I go at all, is to keep it as brief as possible before doing The Slink.
For argument’s sake, let’s say the decision has been made. (It could happen.) What then?
The Slink is my trademark move. One minute I’m there and then. Poof. Hey! Has anyone seen Tom in a while?
I don’t believe in goodbyes at parties. It creates a commotion, focuses undue attention (I’m not a narcissist in real life) and can take 90 minutes or more. The Slink is the much preferable option.
But before I could activate the magical powers of The Slink something else happened. Something very untoward. Of course, great umbrage and acrimony was involved. Curious? Well load up the fucking Facebook. I’m sure you can read all about it.
Continue reading →
Shouts from the Abyss 
Recent Comments