Rebuttal: If You Can’t Say Something Nice…

Rebuttal


You know what I’m fucking sick of? People trying to make me play nice. Sure, there’s a time and a place for being kind. I love puppies and hugging and complimenting people and all that pansy shit, but there’s also a time and a place for screaming and shouting and calling people shit-eating, sister-fucking piles of dog semen. And I have never been and will never be someone to shy away from pointing out the dog semen when I see it.

What’s got me fired up this time? Motherfucking Facebook. Look, guys, I love Facebook. I truly do. I spend, like, way too much of my time looking at pictures of people’s babies and lunches, reading their whining passive-aggressive semi-mysterious ranting about “I thought you were my friend” horseshit, laughing at photos of cats and all the stupid dreck that makes Facebook Facebook. But every so often I see something that absolutely burns my ass, and it always falls into one of two closely-related categories: the “god I wish people would stop talking about politics” category or the “can’t we all just be nice” category. And to those who post either one of these simpering statuses, I have a simple message for you:

No. Fuck you.

This man is now a goddamned US Senator. Choke on that.Who died and made you the goddamned nice police? If Facebook was cleansed of everything but your stupid goddamned affirmations and messages from God telling me that he loves me and has a plan for me today I would leave it faster than you can say “Stuart Smalley”. Photos of the Dalai Lama with some pithy saying about kindness are not fucking discourse, they are socially acceptable public masturbation.

And what’s so fucking wrong with discussing politics? You know what, Care Bear? If we don’t discuss politics then politics don’t change. If we just sit around and participate in the enormous positivity circle jerk you seem to want social media to be, then the people who are fucking us right now are only going to fuck us harder and faster, and not in the good, “say I’m a dirty girl” sort of way. If you want a castrated, toothless group of friends who will shit sunshine and ponies into your open, waiting mouth then why in the fuck did you friend me in the first goddamned place? Honestly, did I ever come across to anyone as Mary goddamned Poppins? No.

One of the most despicable instances of this was the kickback to the recent Chick Fil-a fracas. No, I don’t mean the righteous indignation of the Christian anti-homo community, I mean the mindless, simpering pussies who ceaselessly complained about how tired they were of hearing about Chick Fil-a. Well you know what, princess? A whole fucking lot of gay folk are sick of not having the same rights as you and I, and in my book their plight trumps yours. So plug your fingers in your ears if you want and pretend that everything will be ok if we just quit talking about it, but leave me the fuck out. I’m angry. I’m fucking furious. And I sure as shit ain’t gonna bite my tongue.

Wilfred, everybody knows about your fucking diabeetus.The final indignity is something that I find so fucking falsely saccharine that I’m pretty sure I developed class-2 diabetes the moment I read about it. Some fuck has declared today “positive posts on Facebook” day. Yeah, you read that right. For a day, we’re to swallow our bile, choke back our anger at everything that’s wrong with the world we live in, and prance about Facebook throwing daisies and smiles at everyone. I’ve also seen the addendum “no political posts on Facebook”, which I assumed was just a given, since all politics is a hateful, noxious abyss of rancid feces and bile. Guys, you would have to be clinically brain-dead to believe that everything in our country – much less our world – is hunky-dory. Fuck, even those Tea Party Neanderthals know shit is fucked, and most of them are clinically brain-dead. You don’t fix a problem by ignoring it. You don’t change the world with unicorns and glitter unless you’re riding that unicorn into Fox News studios to glitter-bomb and then gore Greta Van Susteren’s hateful ass. What does playing nice for a day net us? Fake fucking smiles, snake-oil happiness and a whole fucking day wasted when we could have still been screaming that shit is most definitely not right.

So no, I will not be participating in “jerk off on bunnies” day on Facebook. Instead, because I’m a complete asshole and not at all ashamed of it, I’m venting as much bile today as my doctor allows, and your goddamned platitudes and pictures of flowers and messages about footprints in the goddamned sand can suck a dick. I’m mad. I’m mad, and I won’t be silenced.


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About Andrew Nienaber

Andrew has been a bartender, ice cream truck driver, teacher, critic, writer, all-around theater professional and director of operas. This is by far the most exciting and least lucrative job he's ever had. He also has a novel called Truly, Deeply Disturbed, which is available on Amazon and other fine book-selling outlets.