That was it. One sentence. Not an insult. Not even a strong opinion. Just something I typed while half-distracted and scrolling, not expecting it to matter.
Then I got blocked.
Which is fine.
Which is totally, totally fine.
It’s not a big deal. Obviously. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t owe me anything. Blocking is a normal part of being online. I’ve blocked people. It happens.
But still.
What a facade of a world we live in; how the adjustment to it feels like it’s taking too long, like it isn’t coming, it was never coming.
Because if John Leavitt, a man who made his entire career out of posting dry, sardonic, tuned-in commentary, satire, anti-humor, can't recognize when someone else is doing the exact same thing, then what hope is there for the rest of us?
Like, okay. Unemployment is down. That’s what the news says. But also I know five people with graduate degrees who are sharing one Uber eats login and pretending it’s a startup.
The rent went up again this month. Not mine. But I assume someone’s.
Meanwhile, I’m getting blocked for a post that is, structurally, just a question.
A polite question.
A curious question.
They say you’re supposed to learn from your mistakes; that only crazy people do the same thing over and over and expect a different outcome.
…Whelp, I guess I guess I must be crazy, because I’m still curious:
How does he post every hour of the day?
Does he schedule them?
Is there a clone?
Anyway, I tried to apologize. I wrote:
No, John, that was a joke, I swear! C’mon man, look at my profile. It’s all satire.
But I couldn’t tag him in the post because I was already blocked.
Which makes sense. But in a way also seems to be the prefect metaphor
A polite question becomes a trespass.
So I made another account here just to go with this and said
No response as of yet, I’ll let you know if I get any, though.
No, I don’t have a punchline.
No, I’m not writing this for sympathy.
No, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
We’re all trying to survive the collapse of civilization. Some people hoard gold. Some people post.
I posted.
John blocked me.
And now I’m here.
Waiting for the next tuna sandwich price hike.
And trying, desperately, to be funny.
Which is harder than ever.
Especially when the funny people are blocking the rest of us.