I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I haven’t even done it yet, but I will, and I’m sorry. It can’t be stopped. I’ve only owned a dog for one day, and my phone already has roughly 8,017 photos of him. It’s only a matter of time before I post them to online social networks. I don’t want to, but I have to. Nature compels me. I am now a pet owner. I am now annoying.
I never wanted to become one of these people. I hate these people. These common suburbanites with lives so boring that all they can do to pass the time is unleash wave after wave of photographic dreck online, each pet or baby photo more mundane than the last.
Post one photo and it’s cute and informative. You have a pet or baby now. It’s a thing in your life worth sharing. After the tenth or twentieth photo, half of them blurry or poorly lit, an intervention is needed. One where your closest friends gather in a room and shout things at you like, “The damn baby/pet is doing nothing of interest! Nothing! It’s just yawning or staring vacantly into space! Get your shit together, Kenneth!”
And then you’d respond with something like “Yeah, but look at this cute picture of my baby with a chin full of what appears to be half creamed corn and half vomit!”
Gross. Stop it. You’re not in a frat anymore. Please keep all vomit-themed photos confined to your personal collection. Or at least open an Instagram account so it only bothers a small group of people who are already obnoxious.
“Hey, look at my dog lying on his back and showcasing his balls to everyone! It’s not weird at all!”
What on Earth makes you think it’s okay to share that? It’s your dog’s balls. I can’t have this on my screen. My boss walks past my desk all the time. You wouldn’t upload a photo of your boyfriend’s balls, or your dad’s balls, would you? This is no different. A pet is a member of your family, and the first rule of families is you don’t take pictures of each other’s balls. This faux pas cannot be rewound.
That’s the sort of stern talk I need right now. I’ve only posted one photo so far, but I can feel it building up inside. If someone doesn’t beat some sense into me, I will post all seven billion photos I’ll have taken by the time this column prints. It’s no longer if, it’s when.
Look at that share button. It’s so big and pretty. It’s colored differently than the other buttons, almost as if it wants me to share. What’s that, phone? You want me to share all of them? I just click this one button and it sprays them onto Facebook like proverbial diarrhea through a firehose? That’s so convenient!
No! No, I won’t do it! It’s just a dog! He’s just sleeping! They sleep 99 percent of the day! This is not worthy of anyone’s interest!
Aww, but look at his face! His face is so cute!
Damn you through the fiery urethra of hell! Take your dog photos, glitter pens and Lisa Frank binders back to the demons below! If I press that button, I’ll be an asshole forever!
Everyone’s gonna love this dog forever! Look at this closeup you took of his nose! Soooo cute!
It’s blurry! You can’t even tell it’s a nose! It could be his anus for all anyone knows!
Post it! Post it to Facebook now! All the cool people have canceled their accounts anyway! Only your elderly relatives are on there! Post the nose/anus!
No! I will not post this dog’s nose/anus!
Post a picture of his real anus!
No! I . . . wait, what? This just got weird.
Stab yourself with that pen! Make your leg bleed!
Good lord, that’s intense. Did I just drop peyote or have a stroke or something? I wasn’t expecting my inner monologue to start using this voice for at least two or three more years.
Kill your friends! Kill your neighbors! Post more dog pictures!
Seems like a lot of work on my part. Can’t I just jump off a building or something?
Become everything you hate! Shop at Trader Joe’s! Watch reality TV! Post more cute dog photos!
Never! I have hobbies! I have a cornucopia of fruitful interests!
I am your master now! Delete all other photos from your profile, and replace them with Dog! There is no more Paul! Only Dog remains!
Sigh. Fine. *Click*