While in the midst of putting the finishing touches on my latest Good Thing, Bad Thing lecture - coming soon! - what should I find creeping onto my television screen, but this hideous thing:
Ugh! Great Scott, what an ugly customer! Have you ever seen anything so utterly repulsive in your entire life?
Well, I did a little research and apparently this thing is called - let's see if I have this right - I think you pronounce it "Jack Dorsey". Furthermore, although I don't see how it's evolutionarily possible, this creepy-crawly thing is actually the CEO and chief TWIT of the TWIT-ter. Who knew?
Well, as extraordinary as that may be, I just couldn't stand having it on my television for a moment longer. I hollered for Gladys to bring me up a newspaper, which she did, and I was about to roll it up when... Whoa, nelly! Right there on the front page were a swarm of these amigos:
Yikes! What vermin! What horrid little beasts! I almost had a heart attack on the spot.
According to the newspaper article - to which these things were attached - these are known as "Facebook Factcheckers". Apparently, they have taken it upon themselves to monitor and police the discourse that occurs on their platform. I suppose they've always been there, lurking in nests just out of sight, but clearly the infestation has burst out onto the surface.
Boy, do we have a problem on our hands. What are we supposed to do? You kill one and ten more will take their place. Should we move to a different house? Take our discourse to another platform? Should we stay and try to fumigate this one? What are the risks of doing that? Have they damaged the house permanently? Would our reaction damage it further? God Almighty, I wish it didn't have to come to this.
All this was getting too much for me to handle, so I let Gladys deal with it and left the house for some fresh air and sunshine. They have socially-distanced matinees in my part of the country, so I decided to go to the movies and see that new Mulan remake. Seemed worth a shot, but then...
Oh, Dear God!
Disney! Since when have you become such a shameless parasitic worm? How could you've let that happen? You're an American institution! Say it ain't so! Say it ain't so!
This might be the worst betrayal of all. Poor Walt must be rolling in his grave (or cybernetically-sealed storage chamber). To think his magnificent company, which has produced such monumental works of art, which has brought such happiness and delight to so many families, has mutated into a craven wretched slave of the Chinese Empire!
Has the whole world gone mad? Will we ever rid itself of these bloodsuckers? TWIT-ter, Facebook, Disney, allow me to ask: In what nation are you headquartered? In which nation were you founded? From which people do you hire your staff? What ideals, if any, do you hold dear? Are you American companies? Are you some other sort of companies? What are you?
Pests? Parasites? Citizens? I'd really like to know.