What’s a Misanthrope to Do?

The more time I spend on social media, the less interested I am in social media. Also, the more reclusive I become.

With the plague on a vicious upswing and the fascist lying sacks of greedheaded wildebeest excrement in full vigilante voter intimidation mode, OF COURSE I’m not so keen on going out. Being amongst our fellow humans feels distinctly unsafe and annoying (unless said clothes wearing hominids are masked and I know/trust them).

On Twitter I’m muting or, at least, scrolling past most of what’s posted. With Musk buying the bird, claiming he’s gonna make it all about free speech™, I imagine Mango Mussolini and his cult of violent, brainless idiots will be back in force spewing lies, outraged insanity and other assorted vitriol soon.

ShoutyFace feels like it’s all ads now. Also, either friends aren’t posting as much or with whatever algorithm my feed is set to, all but a few people are filtered out.

Instagram is calming but I’m rarely on it. Why? //shrugs// Maybe, when I want to look at pics, I’m in the habit of tuning in to NASA, Colossal and My Modern Met.

I surf The Dodo, They Can Talk and xkcd on the regular but those aren’t social media sites.

If there was a social site for cats, deer, coyotes and bunnies I would SO sign up. Wait…do I see myself transforming into a Furry in my future?  Kinda doubt it. I don’t want to be an animal, I think I just wanna hang with them.

Also, Jen, Ten and Oni have more than enough on their plates as far as taking care of me goes. I’m not gonna add litter box duties or poop and pee walks to that.

Ummm, happy Fried-day.

Cherry Tarts—Wayne Thiebaud