The Art of Being Offended

The Artist D

The people of the world are lost. They are forgetting how to communicate with each other in an age of communication. They have communicated themselves to death. Their opinions have been bolstered and they think that their opinion matters. It does, just as much as anyone else’s.

The people of the world do not remember that we are all allowed to do what we want to do so long as it isn’t hurting anyone else. And by hurting I don’t mean you’re precious feelings.

I am baffled and silenced by people thinking that “taking to Twitter” is actually a powerful thing. I am sickened by the so-called educated media telling me that what I’m about to hear is “going to be quite jarring.” I am one of the few remaining who thinks I can tell what is jarring and also not let the jarring bother me.

We live in the 21st Century with ray guns, imitation hover boards, and a nice tight knit network of connection. We can finally speak through the Babel Fish to anyone anywhere and now all we want to say is thumbs up. The most foolish among us dare to write a paragraph which gets glazed over and absorbed by the Internet’s blackest hole like a spill is sucked up by a Bounty paper towel.

I am struck silent by article after article with each and every nincompoop taking it personally and blowing it out of proportion. The people of the world are faltering. The humans of the world are forgetting their humanity.

There is no more communication which is leading to an alienation. A nation of aliens standing exactly next to each other not knowing they share blood and particles. The pigs of the Animal Farm are standing on the subway cool as cucumbers. Everything is just fine as they scoff at the raving loon trying poorly to remind them that the rules on the wall are being painted over every evening.

I cannot comment. I have no comment. No comments can come forth because the people have stopped reading books. Real books. Books that take time. Books that come in pages instead of kilobytes. A book where you know the ending is coming and you weep with every turn of the page as you finish another historical thought. The creatures have stopped learning new words unless it is imprinted upon their Word of the Day Toilet Paper.

If they could only see us now. As we spin away and bury the most important time in all existence. Waltzing towards extinction, if only the Millennials knew how to waltz.

And crawling on the planet’s face, some insects called the human race. Lost in time, and lost in space… and meaning.

If you care to comment on The Artist D’s blog about the useless nature of Internet comments be sure you’re logged in and use the comment area below.

Tags: featured, focus, lifestyle, opinion, theartistd

Category: Transgender Body & Soul, Transgender Opinion