Bob’s turbo-impotence is perhaps his most defining characteristic. With every tweet, he reveals his utter fixation on all the things in the world he is powerless to change or even influence. Whether it’s movie plots and casting, elected officials and public policy, global economic systems, cultural norms or who gets gassed, Bob pisses away the vast majority of his attention and time on shit he’ll never change and that ultimately has nothing to do with him.
Meanwhile, he ignores all the things he could change but never has and never will. From his weight, personal hygiene and inability to form relationships to his metric shitload of unresolved trauma and resulting emotional immaturity and ego damage, Bob refuses to look at that which he owns. As an adult, he is 100 percent responsible for these matters. Day after day, he shirks those responsibilities.
Lots of people are fat, ugly, angry losers. But most of them don’t feel the need to spend literally every day and every night showing it off on Twitter. If Bob took just one hour a day from his Twitter time budget and spent it working on his own shit, he could actually effect some change in the only world that really matters: his world.
Instead, he’ll continue to rage-tweet until he dies or loses his extremities to diabetic injury. But nothing in his life will change for the better. In fact, it will only get worse.
Despite how loathsome Bob is, I’d love to see him get out of his own way and start improving his life. One less miserable cunt on Twitter would be nice, but the real beneficiaries would be his niece, nephew, and others who genuinely care about him. Sure, there aren’t many of those. But every additional moment of joy and gratitude adds up.
Unfortunately for Bob and those close to him, that outcome will always elude him while he ignores his own business and pontificates about how everyone else’s should be handled. As if he’d fucking know. Bob is more incurably flaccid and useless than a cadaver’s pee-pee.