This is not an open letter, but rather an open letter to those who write open letters. I want to throw two words at you right now, but considering you make me attempt to read your 1500 words of whining.
Rather than use the right two when I have to.
It’s similar to a morning spent with my grandmother’s knitting club, although they are busy knitting hard to keep orphans warm, they throw racist taunts at the lady, who has delicately prepared their tea, probably with the right amount of gob.
I wanted to write an open letter to the dead man I saw on the side of the road today, looking much like a baked potato before I remove the tinfoil to add the perfect amount of cheese and cream as sour as I am when I see a fucking rhino on my Facebook wall.
I respect the dudes that threw a little paint on to Zuma’s tackle, they didn’t like something and they did something.
I don’t agree with what they did, defacing someone’s freedom of speech is like smearing faeces on the constitution, but at least they did something.
Social media has given us a unique opportunity to make us look like we care, if I post the right message now, maybe she will see, she will totally think I am a good guy, then we will mate, I will thank the Rhinos for the opportunity they created, later.
Social media had given me the unique opportunity to be a passive friend, if I like something you’ve posted once in a while, you can tell people that you and me are tight – like that.
Are you a real activist, or do you care because it’s cool?
Are you that irritated that you are prepared to ruin my morning shit, whilst you moan about a political situation that may never change, certainly not. Not for every word you write.
So in protest, I am going post a whole lot of images of Ryan, saying no.