Photos of your food and Candy Crush invites get a bad rap: the worst thing that can clog up your social media feed are memes.
They are not jokes. They are simply photos you did not take plastered with your own shitty words. Of course that’s my just definition, so here’s a real one:
meme -mēm/ noun
an element of a culture or system of behavior that may be considered to be passed from one individual to another by nongenetic means, especially imitation.
a humorous image, video, piece of text, etc. that is copied (often with slight variations) and spread rapidly by Internet users.
So here are some memes I created. Feel free to use them the next time your suddenly politically-aware grandmother wants to school everyone on the dangers of immunization while using a picture of a fucking frog:
When I moved across the country from Vancouver to Kingston, Ontario, I was warned of two things: the winters and country music. While it’s only October 19 and I could already use a window scraper, there has been no sudden epiphany as to the level of saturation modern country music has in my new city. It’s goddamn everywhere.
Here are the fundamental problems I have with this genre and several ways to appease me, someone who listens to country music thrice weekly for ten minute intervals* exclusively while driving in automobiles.
This one is a favorite, in part because I was present during filming and saw no less than nine takes of Wade falling out of the elevator.
Everybody knows that Thanksgiving is for eating a lot of god damn food and spending money on discounts named after days in which terrible things happened. Here are a bunch of not-terrible things I am thankful for this year:
I’m thankful for my new home, both the city in which it resides and the people who have welcomed me with open arms.
I’m thankful for my friends and family who support and believe in me and put up with my near-constant ignorance of the three hour time difference that separates us*.
I’m appreciative to be alive in 2014 in a western country, and so far showing no signs of hereditary hair loss.
I’m satisfied and obliged for online thesauruses.
I don’t support a reboot, remake or sequel to Ghostbusters. When the time comes, of course I’ll pay my twelve dollars and hunker down in a theatre to gather as much information as possible for use when whining about the bastardization of a beloved intellectual property to other people born between 1979 and 1988 whom I assume share my disdain but probably don’t let it affect their lives as much. In the mean time I’ll just sit here and think that it’s a stupid idea.
Here’s a list of movie sequels and reboots that are both absurd and profitable. If anyone from Hollywood is listening, each pitch will cost you $12 000 and I will request a small cameo in each film. I don’t need any dialogue, just a reaction shot of me smirking at a bad pun related to the original source material. For example, in Ghostbusters 3, Kristen Wiig could attend a lecture by Dr. Peter Venkman at some kind of college. Venkman is sad that Egon passed away but can’t process his emotions in a healthy way because his best friend Ray Stantz is disturbingly into seances. (Stantz desperately wants to contact Egon from beyond the grave*, but keeps getting distracted by running a winery**). Anyways, Kristen Wiig, Amy Poehler, Tina Fey and let’s say probably Jennifer Lawrence sneak into Venkman’s sparsely attended lecture about ectoplasm and no Danas/only Zuul because they want to be Ghostbusters and need some guidance. As he’s wrapping up orating to a mostly disinterested student body, Venkman makes eye contact with Wiig. She raises her hand and asks why he stopped, why the Ghostbusters disbanded. He looks at her and smugly says “Ghost-busting is a slimey business,***” to which you cut to me, raising a single eyebrow****. That and $12 000 gives you carte blanche to take any of my ideas.
Anyway, on to the fucking list: