After reading your scathing character assassination of a girl who wrote a bizarre excuse for a mini autobiography in response to a girl who wrote an article detailing the absolute struggle she dealt with while working for a Bay Area based corporation, I felt it absolutely necessary to dine on your flesh and internal organs. I think it is only fitting that I literally eviscerate you as you metaphorically destroy someone who literarily decided to reframe someone's personal essay on the struggles of working for a cellular phone application into some kind of indictment on an entire generation. (You might also tell me literarily is not a word, but I'm 105 so who the fuck cares?)
My name is Mary, but that is not nearly as important as Joe, which is the name I gave your pancreas right before I devoured it. I will be turning actually older than dust come this winter, and it is literally two or three lifetimes ago for some people that I was your age, having survived two world wars, a Great Depression, a Great Recession, and a Mediocre Jam Season (the strawberries were a little under-ripe this year). Despite our several-decade age difference, it seems we are closer than ever, primarily because I am in your body cavity, consuming your kidneys.
Before I dined on them with just a little touch of mustard, you used your lungs to tell me you were an English major at one point, and that a 29 year old English major was busy ripping into a 25 year old English major, much as I was ripping into your bronchi. You said something about the privilege of getting to dream, and something of reading comprehension, but all I wondered as I consumed your trachea was, why do English majors spend so many words hating on each other?
I wondered as I picked apart your muscle groups why you and that girl you destroyed and the girl she ripped spent so much time picking apart each other's personal flaws or faults. It seemed so exhausting, at each step, as you tip toed around the quality parts of each person, the good things they had to say, and instead chose to tear into the details that contain the least substance. You were a graphic designer (before I drained all the blood from your body into a saucepan). She was a waitress. That other girl was a customer service person. I'm a methodical deconstructionist of the human body. Who the hell cares?
It just seems a real shame that all this talk turns to personal successes or failings while the big, juicy issue of unsustainable minimum wages, which it seems all of you have experienced, goes almost untouched. Sure, that's not all your fault - I've watched tweets go from "something the birds my husband (ingested in '85) watched would do," to "a way a narrative completely runs off the rails." But it's amazing how we get so distracted by whether or not someone actually could afford bread (or cupcakes and bourbon), or who is more privileged and who is the least grateful, or who doesn't understand the #BlackLivesMatter movement at all (wait, really? oh dear. That is pretty awful. I'm 105 with plenty of latent racist views and even I think that's bullshit).
Sorry, what was I saying? I got a little distracted while chewing on your appendix. What is the whole point of this thing, anyway?
I suppose all I really have to say is, the Internet is a lot like the small intestine I'm currently slurping up like spaghetti - it runs on forever, and it's really good at sucking out all the nourishing and interesting bits and leaving only the husks of opinion and shit behind.
Maybe instead of consuming each other for all of our flaws (honey, your poor bile duct, so overworked), we can direct our attention back to the choice problems of a culture of knee-jerk outrage, angry mob mentality, sharing stories without fact checking, character assassination over empathy, gentrification, and a booming tech industry with problematic wages (which makes no sense to me not because I'm old but because I primarily spent the last 20 years eating humans). This isn't directed at just you, my 36 year old friend, because you're little more than viscera on my carpet at this point - this is directed at all the people on that small intestine Internet train of bullshit.
Let's stop being shitty to each other, folks, and get back to the important thing - disposing of bones in a discrete, non-obtuse manner.