I once made the mistake of reading the comments section of something on the Internet. (I know. Don’t lecture me. It’s right up there with that time I wore gaucho pants with knee high boots.) I honestly think that’s the first place the FBI should be trolling for suspects in any crime ever committed at any point in modern history.
The article was about something important. Don’t remember what. Maybe how One Direction was breaking up? Or the Iran Deal? Either way, the comments were a mixed bag of everything from fake prayer chains to that guy who thinks he know everything about boy bands and/or nuclear weapons.
But someone wrote:
“Memes Are The Lazy Way Out!”
It didn’t concern me that it had nothing to do with Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, John Kerry, Philip Hammond, Sergey Lavrov, Federica Mogherini, Javad Zarit, or Ali Akbar Salehi. (Confession: I had to use Google on this one…I didn’t know the names of those British boys.) I was most put off by equating memes with torpescence.
Has this person never searched for the perfect meme? It takes sweat to keep scrolling through all the cliched ones even your great-Grandma has printed out and handed to a friend at church (totally not kidding…this actually happened) to finding that treasure.
The perfect rejoinder.
If we are friends and I’ve never sent you a meme, there’s a chance we aren’t that close.
And if I’ve never sent you a GIF, our relationship is most likely a sham. Much like most One Direction songs and the entire Iran Deal.