TwitBook

TwitBook


I don't really care
What you've done with your hair
Or what sports team you detest.
I don't really think
How much you drink
Falls in my realm of interest.


It hardly matters to me
That you never miss "Glee"
Or that your period's late.
I don't need your snark
Or your caustic remark
About a political candidate.


So you move right on;
Take your phone and get gone.
I'm sure you're all wrapped up in you.
But that's just as well;
Your life's a tough sell
Since no one else cares what you do.


    Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg was recently named Time Magazine's Person of the Year. Time's subscription numbers have been declining for some time, consistent with the diminishing influence of printed magazines overall. Yet, so many people who don't care about Time Magazine, don't read it, barely even see it, except at a newsstand or in a doctor's office, never fail to take umbrage at whomever Time names as person of the year.

     I objected wholeheartedly to Zuckerberg's victory, if one could call it that (perhaps recognition is a superior word), but instead of criticizing Time Magazine, I drove to Zuckerberg's house and punched him in the face! Thanks, MZ, for all the inane commentary, petty bullying, and nonsensical social groups; thanks for all the wasted time and ruined relationships. I know it isn't really your fault, but I can't punch everybody in the face, can I?    

    By the way, Zuckerberg attempted a counterattack but I had already left his property. That's what he gets for updating his status to "Has Just Been Punched In the Face" before trying to retaliate.

    I shall endeavor to compose several poems per week. Check back daily, either because you enjoy the verse or because you detest them and are looking out of morbid curiosity.

                                                                                                                    RH (that's right, fools!)