Bernie’s Bullies, Hillary’s Harassers: An Empath Tries To Survive Facebook During the Democratic Primaries


There. I said it. It needed to be said. You are hurting me with each post. Every “funny” meme you shared feels like an interestingly treaded boot on my chest. Every poll from an organization I’ve never heard of that you’ve clicked LIKE on is a knitting needle slowly inserted into the empty space of my eye socket. Every think piece from showing why whoever has no chance or every chance feels like watching this week’s Super Bowl Halftime Show again… without Beyoncé, or Bruno Mars, or even Coldplay’s hot drummer. Everything you post is pure torture.

Yes, I am a delicate little flower.

Deanna_loses_her_empathic_abilitiesMore correctly, I am an empath. Now you may only be familiar with empaths from the character of Deanna Troi on Star Trek: The Next Generation. You remember her –the woman with the curly hair that sat next to Captain Picard on the bridge and said things like “I sense deception” whenever the plot called for it. Most of the times being an empath came in handy. However, once a season, whenever the actress’ contract called for her to be the focus of a story, Troi would clutch her head in pain and slump against the bulkhead because the vibes or whatever were just too much to bear.

It seems every time I log on to Facebook lately, I end up slumped against a bulkhead, and I’m sick of it. Continue reading


An open letter to the now-former Facebook friend who chose to post a picture of a gun on Christmas Eve

Dear ______________,

You may have noticed in recent days that you haven’t been seeing any pictures of my cat in your Facebook feed. That’s because I’ve unfriended you. I hope you can live with the barren cyberscape your life has now become. If you can’t, then you should have thought about that before you posted that picture of a handgun you got for Christmas on Facebook.

“Merry Christmas to me! :-)” you tagged it in the worst use of the smiley emoticon I have ever seen. Well, Merry Christmas to me! :-)… I’ve dumped your ass. I don’t need your negative, bougie death cult in my life.

I need to get this said right away: Do you have any idea how tacky it is for a grown-up to post pictures of the expensive things they got for Christmas? Nothing like rubbing your good fortune in people’s faces. You’re right up there with people who post about getting their seat upgraded from Business Plus to Business SuperBigDick Deluxe or complain about how hard it is to find a good ‘Vette mechanic. Continue reading

“Ohnmächtigsozialbuchzorn” and other German words that have come in handy during this morning’s time using the social medias.


Ohnmächtigsozialbuchzorn: A German noun describing the impotent rage that overtakes you when you see that someone has repeated the same clever comment on a Facebook post that you had made at an earlier time. Don’t people realize that they are part of a community whose basic requirements include reading previous comments? That is unless there is a button for “previous comments.” Clicking on that is understandably above and beyond.

Großeninnerstohnmächtigsozialbuchzorn: When you turn this impotent rage inward because the person has phrased their comment much better than you did. This is also often accompanied by an undercurrent of Ichwerdenierichtigerschriftstellerwerden, where you feel you will never be a “real” writer.

Kleinemitleidohnmächtigsozialbuchzorn: This is the tiny bit of pity you feel when the person has phrased their comment poorly. This is often concurrent with intense Kannicheinfachnurdiesenkleinensieg, muttering to the universe to please let me have this little victory. It was a pretty lousy joke to begin with, but, still, you cannot allow it to be sullied even further.

Kleinemitleidohnmächtigsozialbuchzornmitdrossel: Kleinemitleidohnmächtigsozialbuchzorn accompanied by the overwhelming desire to hunt down this person and throttle them for ending their post with “LOL,” or worse yet, “lol,” which indicates a flippancy that you cannot tolerate. You imagine them smugly chuckling as they tap your words into their device. You have to leave to go for a walk. You hit a few garage sales. At the second one, you experience a pleasing Kleinemitleidohnmächtigsozialbuchzornmitdrosselundmitzufälligenmesser when you score some fine German Henkel knives, and the guy at the garage sale says maybe you should leave the knives at the cash table because you’re smiling too much walking around with the knives.

Yes, a burning Kleinemitleidohnmächtigsozialbuchzornmitdrosselundmitzufälligenmesser

Yes, a burning Kleinemitleidohnmächtigsozialbuchzornmitdrosselundmitzufälligenmesser