A Facebook Diatribe
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I already know that those are the smarmy comments that will emit from those veneer infested mouths.
The narcissistic side of Facebook
There is also something bothersome about these women who smile as if they've got an overdue hemorrhoid that needs to be removed before they excrete their deep fried olives and gouda filled tomatoes onto the floor. What the hell is wrong with you? It is a sort of strained smile, with askew eyebrows and pleading eyes. They often have their mouths clinched impregnably tight and may or may not employ the ol' bookend stance. It is these same women that (same goes for men-i'm no chauvinist please believe!) have those strained smiles whilst holding an obscenely white plate, fashioned to the shape of a perpendicular shape, with a piece of dust that has been removed from the retina of a salmon fish. But don't worry, that piece of dust has a piece of parsley on it and then some 'chef' haphazardly squirted green pesto with octopus suction cup juice and ferret saliva. Who the fuck really eats this shit? What is wrong with you people? Have you all gone fucking mad or what? You pay $30 for the salt off of a peanut with some obscure mustard squirted on it, then tip some celibate, pompous waiter for patronizing you with pointless inflections and brushing your gentials with those stupid man bibs and act like I'm a nut job for eating at McDonalds?! "do you know how they prepare their eggs?!" is the usual response, to which one must respond "I don't give a shit, it is reasonable, tastes good and doesn't feed my genitals a man bib". I honestly don't care how the food is made as long as it tastes good and is reasonable, so you can sod your soggy peanut with pomme de terre and duck faeces. I digressed to this degree because I already know that those are the smarmy comments that will emit from those veneer infested mouths. The type of people who lean to one side with their picture pose in every event and also post pictures of a solitary peanut on a grande plate, are the exact kind of people that love to sit on Facebook's title page and suffocate the text with their gob. They are the walking advertisements of superficiality and surfaced individuals with the extent of their ideals laying on a bookmarked page of "50 shades of grey", the label on a Jack Daniel's bottle and a proverb on their wrist from either testament (they're not sure) which reminds them to keep the faith. As far as the faith in people goes from Zuckerberg's malevolent creation of indulged narcissism, I've lost most, if not all of it. I don't need to post every itching thought or bullshit meal on Facebook (I can do that right here), and regarding the faith tattoo, I'd rather stick to George Michael's sermon about faith.
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Fareed Nazaryfar, Contributing Writer: Published by the Orange County Register, as well as esoteric publications such as Groundsounds magazine in Los Angeles. Currently on a perennial mission to please the eyes of the editing staff at The New Yorker in a bid to get anything published to validate a sense of "quality". (more...)