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Open Letter to the Social Media Pill
by K. A. Laity

Dear Social Media Pill,

They say when you want to stop bouncing on a trampoline, you should bend your knees. You are the bent knees of the Internet.

There is no excitement you cannot wet blanket, no sorrow you cannot sprinkle with clichés, no observation that you cannot disagree with in a carping and slightly resentful way. People turn from you not as they would from some grand tragedy where a valiant heart meets its final dissolution with dignity and stoic silence, but as they would to avoid stepping in dog excrement on the street.

You are an annoyance; worse, you are a bore.

You quibble, you nitpick, you object, then admit to misunderstanding only to follow up your admission with a long and pointless tale that exhibits no connection whatsoever with the original topic.

Affiliated to no political party, you find fault with everyone else's. Solutions, however, are anathema to you. No public figure is beneath your dismissal, no music meets with your approval -- or you used to like that band, but sigh sadly that they aren't what they used to be (back when you had some other reason to complain about their clothes, hair or place of origin). You dismiss most restaurants and will not drink beer.

We dream daily of your death, but killing you would either irretrievably doom heaven to your endless mild disparaging (and force Odin to call down the destruction of Ragnarok) or offer Hell its finest weapon.

At parties one could simply avoid you. In real life, you were only a casual acquaintance/work colleague/distant relative; your effects were sporadic and largely negligible.

On social media you have become dangerously if inconsistently present. Your Twitter account, seldom used, springs to life without warning at any instance of a fruitful meeting of minds, as if some warning chimed unheard by human ears. Each blog post provokes trepidation, awaiting your next tedious cavil like an undropped shoe. No Facebook celebration is complete without your half-hearted praise and subtle suggestion of nepotism operating behind the scenes.

You are the wheezing, sniffling, tutting embodiment of Arendt's 'banality of evil.'

I have unfriended you.

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