Here's why I love Faecesboobs:
I get to post inane, below-par and below-the-belt quips which fall woefully short of actual humour in retaliation to everyone else posting pictures of their offspring or food. I suppose it's better than the opposite, which would be dick picks and pooh. It's a cause and effect type of argument.
Click "like" if you think you even vaguely got that...
Another reason is that I get to be an obnoxiously obtuse bastard. A lot of people go along with it, either in some sort of head shaking sympathy, or a vain attempt to pretend that it didn't fly a mile over their wanly smiling bobble-heads. The few that get it, do. And to those people I say thank you.
It feeds my rampant narcissism as well. I get to post pictures of my too-fabulous-to-believe lifestyle and everyone believes I cavort around having the best time ever with all my Motley Crüe friends. Judicious editing has been so far ingrained that you probably wouldn't believe it if I told you the truth about my largely uneventful life. Even admitting to an uneventful life is going to be read by dozens of people. Bless you all. If I'd said hundreds that would have been okay too...
The truth is that it provides not only a platform from which I can self promote my opinions, and by extension, my music, but it also serves to alleviate the crushing boredom of an office job. It's like the world's most interactive ant farm. Watching all the little people scurry about trying their best to be noticed in among an avalanche of selfies and pseudo-motivational quotes. And the hypocrites! Oh, the hypocrites! Too much cleavage - pouting attention whore! Too little - let's scrutinise her spelling! Don't dress the part but insist on making hard and heavy music - you're liable to be labelled a "stink hair hypester" (I'm not making this up!) The alternative of course is to dress the part and make shit music or no music whatsoever. The worst are those ever-so-hardcore juvenile delinquents with no money who rely on their clothing to make a bold statement about how terrifyingly Trve Kvlt they are. Although I empathise, rubbish bags have never been an adequate substitute for proper PVC. And even then you're in danger of looking like a twat.
Speaking of! I will be donning my Amazing Shiny Pants Of Toightness for your viewing pleasure when next AXXON takes to the stage. I have a new guitar to show you all courtesy of Jackson and Paul Bothner Music! You don't want to miss this opportunity to have your face and ears thoroughly sexed by our particular brand of intense, insanity-infused industrial.
But the main reason.. the very main reason I so love Facebook is the complete and utter self-contained self absorption it not only encourages, but embodies. I say and do as I please. And the irony is that only my nearest and dearest DO get it. And who cares about the rest, right? My highly refined music taste? Only those who share my pompous predilections would agree. Obviously. Everyone else sees me as a show off and a know it all. Which is probably the only scenario in which your interpretation of my online demeanour is in any way remotely accurate.
I'm going running. It's been months, but it's a beautiful day out and I don't feel like sitting here for too much longer - cooped up and glued to the fluorescent glow of a million people updating their stupid fucking statuses.
NGDG: I came very close to having an accident on Jan Smuts Avenue this morning. Thank heavens for the Colony Arm's public toilets.
Spread The Love. The World Needs It More Than Your Instagram.
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