Over the last few days I've noticed a startling trend on the internet that rather disturbs me. And no, it's not silly mothers letting their children fend for themselves for a few minutes so they can check their email.
It's the fact that the interwebs, for the most part, have completely lost their sense of humor.
Or humour (for the damn Canadians and their fucked up spelling).
Is it me or are the jokes gone?
Maybe it's the recession, or the high fructose corn syrup, or that people have larger than usual sticks stuck up their assholes, but it's impossible to make a funny, dare I say be "tongue in cheek" without at least someone, or group of someones, getting their big old panties in a wad.
Because I'm sorry. If you can't take a joke, you're wearing big ugly panties. And if you can take a joke and you wear big ugly panties then you will not be offended by that statement. You will think it's funny.
I noticed it back a month or so ago when I tweeted about the Newfoundland Premier getting surgery in the United States, no doubt to avoid the complimentary coochie exams Canadians are giving out during their surgeries at teaching hospitals.
I mean, dudes don't have coochies so it should be obvious right there that I was making a joke. But even then, considering the timing of it all - you know, Canadian Premier gets surgery out of the country just as news broke that Canadian women were getting non-consensual vaginal exams during surgery - I thought that it was kind of funny.
But instead, a few people actually tweeted to me that Newfoundland is an island and a small one at that and so therefore it requires him to get his major surgery done here in the USA.
And PS @mublogger it's not a Prime Minister [as I had originally tweeted from the freaking treadmill because good jokes can't wait people], it's a Premier. No "e" because we're Canadian and we spell weird.
Um, okey dokey then. So much for my good joke erection.
And then there was Alice Bradley's recent hilarious Redbook column called "When Kids Attack!" that caused people to comment that she was raising a serial killer. I realize that perhaps some people might not be familiar with Alice's writing style or the fact that she herself is quite lovely and funny, and from what I can tell is only raising a child to be a city snob who hates Jersey and doesn't really like to eat certain foods, even cookies, which could be cause for some concern, but certainly does not make her a serial killer baby mama.
(Is that what they're called? I'm not familiar with the terminology).
And honestly, I think a disdain for Jersey could be considered well adjusted on some personality scales.
And then there's the Mominatrix, that bitch, who when taken out of context, could be seen as a hater of women. And probably men. Or even babies too. I'm sure there's something that could be twisted in there to make it sound like I hate babies.
Now look. I get that people who have been on the receiving end of non-consensual gynecological exams, violent children, and vaginal or bodily trauma that may affect their receptiveness to jokes about post partum sex may not be able to find these things funny. In fact, they may find them down right offensive - TREASONOUS!
(Dude. I made up a word).
But in my humble experience, especially when it comes to parenting and vaginas, if I wasn't laughing, I'd be crying.
And I'm sorry, but that's just not good for my stunning complexion.