Tuesday Hatred: Feeding Back
I hate it when I receive commercial mail on whose envelope my name, and often the address of the sender as well, is written in a handwriting-esque font, as if in the hopes of deceiving me into believing that it is not commercial mail but rather some kind of personal missive (the kind the receiving of which all my hopes converge on). It is always easy to tell the true nature of the correspondence even before opening it, indeed, even before viewing the return address, because the letters of the address—my address, that is, not the return address—are always too regular, being, after all, not actually handwritten.
I hate that Facebook apparently censors status updates and comments. For instance, the other day, I attempted to leave a comment—to one of my own posts!—consisting entirely of a link to a jpg; it was vanished as soon as I left it. And today I’m pretty sure that the second sentence of a status update read “this shit is clicky”, or words to that effect, among which words was definitely “shit”, but it is no longer there to be seen. It’s barely possible that I never actually wrote that, though; nevertheless, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that I had but it was removed. Stupid Facebook! (And lemme tell you, this shit is way clicky.)
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