Tuesday, April 06, 2021

Serif don’t like it…

Today, I would like to share with you a personal story of internet-based ennui.

See, I have this internet friend named Peyton [last name withheld]. Peyton is going to get a tattoo on his ribs soon, but he has run into a bit of a snag whilst preparing his design. The problem is that the font of his choosing, MS Serif, is too small. He needs for the text to be far larger, because he’s a big guy with huge ribs.

Naturally, Peyton did what anyone would do in that situation. He started a thread on an internet message board to ask if anyone knew of a bigger font he could use.

It’s a perfectly reasonable way to approach such a problem, in my opinion. I mean, what would you have done? Not started a thread on an internet message board to ask for help in finding a larger font? Yeah, right. How else would you propose solving this problem? What good are message boards if not to solicit input on every excruciatingly minute challenge you face in your day to day life. It’s the information age, for crying out loud. Why try, when you can just consult the internet?

The downside though is that message boards are full of meanies who are all too quick to judge and mock you for posting such questions. They can’t understand how someone could possibly not already know the answer, and not bother trying to figure it out on your own. Like they expect everybody to be as smart as… oh, let’s say a doctor.

I faced a similar issue myself some time ago. You know how sometimes people type words and the letters are all slanty? See, I’ve always wanted to do that. But how?!?!?!? This was a very important issue for me, and I was at a loss as to how to do it. Sure, I thought about highlighting a section of text and experimenting with the buttons at the top which were lined up under the words “Text Formatting Controls:” One of the buttons even had the letter I on it, and the I was all slanty. I thought to myself “Hmmm…. you know, maybe….”

But what if it didn’t work? What if it had all been just a big waste of time? Time I don’t have to fuck around with text formatting options that may or may not yield the desired result? What if it just made it worse, and then I didn’t know how to undo what I had just done? What might it do to my self esteem if I tried and failed? You never know how things like that are gonna go, so I didn’t see the point in risking it.

So I did exactly what Peyton did… what any 21st century red-blooded American would do… I tried nothing, and pled for assistance on an internet message board and waited for the scores of message board posters to line up to help me out, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to bask in the warm, glowing warming glow of altruistic goodwill that would surely spew forth from my message board brethren.

But that’s not what happened. Oh, no. I was shocked and appalled to find that the preponderance of the reaction was one of bemusement. They mocked me mercilessly. They questioned my intelligence. They wondered aloud how I could possibly function in society, and whether or not I might have been dropped on my head repeatedly as an infant. They chastised me for what they considered to be a pitiful lack of basic problem-solving skills and the most rudimentary of computer literacy. They implied that I was a lazy, unthinking, attention-starved asshole who came off like he was all but helpless to clear even the smallest of daily hurdles.

It hurt, man. Deep down, I knew they were right. But it hurt. I won’t lie, I cried a little.

Then I clipped my toenails, and then I took out the trash and cooked some eggs.

Then I cried some more. And then I got ANGRY! And I reported those meanies to the mods. And that felt good.

So I masturbated.

And then I reported other posts by friends of the aforementioned meanies. And that felt REALLY good, so I masturbated again. And then I cried again, but this time, for different reasons.

And then I watched a few episodes of Scrubs, and I took notes on various plot points that I could change up a little and work into future message board posts as if they were things that happened to me.

It wasn’t the most pleasant weekend for me.

Except for the masturbating, and the eggs.

But I showed them. I still don’t know how to make the slanty text, but they’ll think twice next time they dare judge a person for needing a little help solving such a complicated, daunting problem without making the slightest effort to solve it on his own.

Welcome to 21st Century America, you meanies! I am the new reality, and someday I might just find myself with your life in my hands. And then YOU will need MY help, and you will have egg on your face.