NS October 16th, 2011
People would use grammar and spelling in a largely correct, coherent manner but, likewise, overwrought pedantry about the misuse of words and the digging in of heels against the evolution of language would be punishable by being forced to eat sweaty socks.
Those who sprinkle apostrophes everywhere in a mistaken belief that they indicate plurality instead of possessiveness would be dipped in wet, gluey newspaper strips, stuffed with sweeties and flogged by errant toddlers with large sticks.
Continually posting pictures of cats doing cute and hilarious things and expecting everyone to lap it up (particularly if you’re a woman and a feminist), while simultaneously berating those who post pictures of kids doing cute and hilarious things and expecting everyone to lap it up, would be seen as the giant hypocrisy it is.
Complaining about changed Facebook settings, while continuing to use Facebook, would result in one’s automatic demotion to Bebo. Repeat offenders would be dropped into the bowels of MySpace, haunted by a never-ending loop of emo music on automatic play.
Cowardly commenters who make disgustingly offensive remarks on forums and news websites under the cover of anonymity would be taken out of their miserable jobs and/or mothers’ basements and given the attention and cuddles they obviously never received as children. If the cuddles didn’t work, their pockets would be lined with stones and they’d be tossed in the nearest river like a sack of unwanted kittens.
Anyone using the phrases ‘full of WIN’ or ‘epic FAIL’ would be reincarnated as the bottom of a nappy bin in summer.
Porn, in its current misogynistic form, would largely disappear. All at once. I just hope the energy shift resulting from 5.7 million solitary handjobs ceasing mid-stroke isn’t enough to spin the Earth off its axis.
The Daily Mail’s website would be hacked and taken over by immigrant lesbians, fat liberals, paedophile benefit scroungers and French-speaking EU bureaucrats, with a few drunk tarts and feral teens thrown in for good measure.
Defining or qualifying women’s capabilities based on their parental status (like ‘mummy blogger’ or ‘mumpreneur’ or ‘mummy track’), while trying to make it sound cheerful and hip, would result in a 2-year mandatory sentence at Camp Patronising, where all the tables and chairs are 10 times as big as the adults and giant children talk down to them while patting them on their pretty, tiny little heads.
All of the following ‘debates’ would cease to exist: breast v bottle, SAHM v working mother, breeders v childfree, kids in restaurants, babies on aeroplanes, and whether getting drunk or walking home alone is an invitation to get yourself raped by hapless, horny passerby.
No one would ever blog about not blogging.
Tweeting about your ‘homemade’ this and your ‘organic’ that, along with continual photographic evidence of said meals and craft projects — to broadcast to the world how healthy, clever, trendy and environmentally-conscious you are — would be illegal in 39 states and Canada. The punishment for breaking this law would be a diet of foie gras, veal and dolphin-unfriendly tuna served with PLAIN, UNORGANIC VEGETABLES. Yeah, that’s right, bitches. I’m that cruel.
I would be able to accurately convey my intentions and emotions without the use of smiley faces, LOLs or ‘just kidding!’ disclaimers.
I would always end a post with a zingy one-liner or memorable moral instead of just allowing my fingers to fall away from the keyb