Soph views Facebook as a soapbox on top of a high horse that she can use to patronise meme-taggers and Candy Crushers. She habitually free bases social justice and goes on savage link sharing benders about the emotive travesty of the day. Unable to gracefully navigate the islands of awareness and preachy fuckery, she often finds herself marooned on the eye-rolling reef of her friend’s thinning patience.
After a Q&A segment and a few vague News articles, Soph is a self-professed expert on Nauru. Today’s update that the police watched fireworks rather than help a victim sends her into a share-frenzied rage. She first read the update on News.com.au, but to separate herself from the shit-for-brain plebs, she chooses an abc.net link to share. She then straps on her ego-harness and starts condescending down the chasm of blow-hardery:
“Honestly, this makes me ashamed to call myself an Australian! Maybe all pollies should have to spend a week in Nauru, then see if they send refugees there! Fuck this society, everyone sitting on their arses, not giving a shit! Bahhhhhhh!”
Her usual pompous brigade leave essay-length comments that revolve around the key themes of “fuck Tony Abbott” and “this is why I don’t sing the national anthem”. A fed-up Uni acquaintance decides to play devil’s advocate, “get over yourself, you shared a link, classic slacktivism”. Soph doesn’t give the criticism a second thought; obviously this is just a racist Aussie who prefers drinking with his mates than solving the world’s problems one shit-eating share at a time.
She finishes her morning’s social justice crusade with a self-indulgent open letter to all refugees and a riveting meme about how much of a goon Hockey was. With all the change she is making in the world, it’s hard to believe she has time to attend her friend’s BBQ. The soiree is pleasant until smiles turn to vacant stares of disbelief when Soph goes at the jugular of a mate who clicked “not attending” to a “Stop the Forced Closure of Aboriginal Communities” event Soph sent her.
“Seriously, you’re just like everyone else, pretend to give a shit, but only think about yourself!” Her friend retorts sharply, “fuck off dickhead, you didn’t even go yourself”. Of course, she didn’t, she just wanted her theoretical attendance to be broadcasted over social media so everyone could see what a couch-sitting sack of sub-human shit they are. She dribbles out lame excuses like the squelching load in an inexperienced porn starlet’s regretful mouth, “I had a tute I couldn’t miss that day, plus my car was in for a service”. Righto, cunto.
Soph feels as trapped as a Californian Orca in the Sea World-esque prison of her friend’s nonchalance. How dare they not recognise the tireless efforts she goes to in the name of “raising awareness” for highly publicised issues. She almost has a bachelor’s degree in sociology & politics for fuck’s sake.
Slacktivism serves nothing other than your own sense of self-importance.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?