The list of people I follow on Facebook dwindles ever so close to zero. It's pathetic, really. But, like everyone else, I suppose, I am drawn to it.
You might call it a guilty pleasure, but I don't feel guilty and it's a fair distance from pleasurable.
Given the minuscule number of folks I now follow, one might think I have no more need to gripe. One would be wrong, and I forgive one.
I cannot seem to prevent myself from clicking on those moronic “Lists” of the 37 worst haircuts, or the 17 most hideous tattoos. You know that crap as well as I do. But I'm weak.
I just clicked on one that promised the 25 worst cars ever made. As if……….
OK, some of them were bad designs. OK. But I owned and drove a bunch of the cars in the list and liked them. I drive one of them even to this day, and I like it. Fact is, I mostly like stuff. Cars included. Some of the ones that I didn't ever own, drive (or still own and drive) were cars that I admired.
And then there's this—The snarky little shits who write these things (which mostly castigate all things 70's) should learn the concepts of spelling, grammar, punctuation, and syntax. Historical context. Accuracy in research.
To the writer of such lists, I can only say this: Bite Me, Cupcake.
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