Facebook is a cesspool of memes and poorly planned explosions of opinion. It must be stopped. This Facebook comment should be enough of a rallying cry for you to pick up your pitchforks and rebel.
“People trying to make you jealous when really, you do NOT give a shit”
Some people don’t handle emotions very well, much less their own life choices. To many, life is a Mortal Kombat game, and they’re someone who is playing video games for the very first time. Life is just mashing buttons, hoping that their character does that fireball move again. Instead of accomplishing their ultimate goals, they just end up blocking a lot and, eventually, ducking and upper-cutting, which is the easiest way to go through existence: hoping everything around you is stupid and simple enough for it to come so close to you that you can easily capitalize on it. To create or “Like” a Facebook page like “People trying to make you jealous when really, you do NOT give a shit” means that you have entered the “ducking and upper-cutting” stage. You’re totally unprepared for any problem or potential success that will come your way, except for the things that can be solved by backing up into the corner and throwing your arms in the air whenever danger approaches.
Don’t let a name like “People trying to make you jealous when really, you do NOT give a shit” fool you. It takes a lot of giving a shit to come to a point where you feel that you need to assert to the world just how much you don’t give a shit.
To illustrate just how much you give a shit, allow me to show you this picture of late 80’s WWF mainstay King Kong Bundy. Look at the size of King Kong Bundy. He has the appearance of an arctic mammal that was suddenly told that it had just ten minutes to prepare to fight Hulk Hogan. That’s the size of the shit you give. You give a King Kong Bundy amount of shit, and, if you know anything about the world’s mass, this means that you’re giving most of it.
There’s a ton of ellipses in this thing, which is pretty thoughtful. Usually, using an ellipses hints that there needs to be some sort of dramatic pause, and, if that’s the case here, then this is the Texas Chainsaw Massacre of Facebook comments. It is literally dripping with suspense and desperation.
“my name is jennifer gumz”
Hi, Jennifer. What’s one of your problems?
“I’am 18 years old”
I dig this amalgamation of both “I am 18 years old” and “I’m 18 years old.” It’s a real “everything and the kitchen sink” approach to spelling. If you decide to spell a word by just adding every possible way to spell it together, someday you’ll get something right.
Also, only 18? With this kind of comment, she proves that she has all the social media managing acumen of a twenty-year-old. I’m thoroughly impressed.
“please like my page”
I explored something like this fairly recently, where an imaginary person told us that her grandmother’s dying wish was a certain number of “Likes” on a Facebook page. But, while that was exploitative, one can appreciate the directness of “please like my page.” It takes confidence for a robot to blatantly ask you things.
And yes, for everyone wondering, I am indeed making fun of the words of a computer virus/robot/fake Facebook account. I know this, because the “jennifer gumz” Facebook page, using this same photo, is just a mashed collection of suspicious clickbait links, and this picture, like a fishhook for people who have a limited understanding of the internet.
I didn’t just find the words of some high school senior and decide that they were fit for having their dreams peed on. Every high school senior writes Facebook posts as if they’re turned away from the computer, screaming for books to be burned. And if it seems petty and useless to you that I’m attacking the words of a fake person, know this: unless we start making fun of robots now, they’ll make us their slaves later. The first battle in the Cyber War will be over self-esteem, and I have my eyes set on victory.
“you will never regret”
I’m writing jokes about Facebook comments on the internet, Jennifer. The regret ship has sailed.
“i promise you”
I don’t want your dirty robot promises.
“please..im so thanxfull to you”
I haven’t even visited your page, nor do I plan to, so don’t get ahead of yourself, even if you spell “thankful” in as rad a way as possible.
“i wanna just 10 like”
There’s a scene in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes where the chimp Koba pretends to be a normal, goofy chimp in order to gain the upper hand on some humans and kill them. I think that’s what’s going on here with GumzBot 3000. If she is made to sound as innocuous as possible, we’ll take pity on her and give her a sympathy “Like.” “oh…friend on facebook…ill just a be yoor friend if you and giving me a media outreach…” I guess that’s why no Facebook robot starts their plea for eventual phishing with “How about a lengthy discussion on the themes of Herman Melville’s later works, chap?”
“so please like it im always with you”
If this was a horror movie, I’d comically say “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?” and Jennifer Love Hewitt would nod, and I’d turn around to receive an axe to the throat from Jennifer Gumz.
“care u making fun together so please support me…”
It’s not just for spelling, it seems, as GumzBot 3000 puts enough random, nice words together to make about 25% of a coherent sentence. If I read by evaluating each word, without adding in their value based on the context of the story and the sentence, this Facebook comment would be enough for me to want to give Jennifer a hug and a thousand “Likes.” Sadly, I read like most of the world, so it’s just gibberish.
Awwwwww. Thanks, Jennifer.