Let’s Start a Twitter War, You and I
Let’s Start a Twitter War, You and I.
Yeah, I’m talking to you, motherfucker. You look like just the kind of pussified millennial I’d like to take to task on Twitter.
That’s a cleverly ironic Twitter handle you have there, @iPadophile. Too bad your opinions, likes, and dislikes run contrary to mine.
I simply can’t allow your tweets with regard to the recent episode of Game of Thrones or your 120 character commentary on the moral constitution of Real Housewives of Beverley Hills star Adrienne Maloof stand uncontested.
Sure, I know that these are some wildly disparate interests, my love for scripted HBO fantasy dramas and my passion for BRAVO reality TV, but I won’t have my TV interests maligned by someone who clearly doesn’t understand the complicated nuances of dragon fighting and the hazards of negotiating Beverley Hills’ elite social circles.
No, I’m afraid we must have an all-out war and air our grievances in an online social forum. You see, it’s my duty to call you out for these kinds of offenses—you might even call it a patriotic duty. That’s what makes this country so great. Our soldiers have died in combat protecting my right to tell you that your opinion of Kanye West is also fucking stupid.
Because as a meat-eating, red-blooded American, I am not only protected by the first amendment, I am also obliged to make sure that everyone recognizes my right to say what I want, when I want, to whomever I want.
And that means you, you fuck-faced fuckbag. How dare you say that this week’s Game of Thrones “wasn’t all that great”? What kind of a simian shit-eater are you? You clearly lack the necessary chromosomes needed to pass credible judgment on artistic expression.
And that shit you said about Adrienne Maloof, that she “looks like an ugly drag queen”? I’ll slit your goddamned throat if you ever so much as think about disparaging her again in that way. She’s a strong, resilient woman who has been through a lot to get to where she is, and I won’t have you use unfair epithets to besmirch her good name.
Twitter and its commensurate access to a worldwide reading public isn’t a right, it’s a responsibility. And if you’re going to bark like a little bitch, you better have the cojones to back it up.
Even if, okay, yeah, bitches don’t have cojones—that’s sort of inherent in the definition. But that’s just what the metaphor is meant to imply: you’re a bitch without testicles, and you best believe that’s an insult. Because it would definitely be better to be a bitch with testicles, probably. Like maybe in some corners of Thailand or something where deviant, predatory sex tourists are known to visit.
So it’s come to this, it’s time for war. I hope you’re ready, you dickless pussy.