Back to the Subject of Things We Don’t Give a Tinker’s Cuss About

Oh dear, it looks like the Observer (of their own navels) really got Teh Donald™ now! Remember how he’s always talking about the sad decline in the number of coal miner jobs? Oh yeah? But guess who’s been losing even more jobs in the last two decades:

Despite Trump Rhetoric, Journalists Are Losing Jobs at a Faster Rate Than Coal Miners

Sorry, but we do believe that our Schadenboner just poked a hole in our desk. The titanium desk. Twice.

Color us heartless, but we somehow fail to even notice the waves of empathy that we’re sure we’re supposed to be feeling right now, having read that headline. We feel waves, for sure, but they’re the kind of waves that we don’t feel it’s appropriate to describe on a family friendly website such as our own.

And what, exactly, is your point, Poindexter? Are you trying to say that we shouldn’t worry about losing our domestic coal production since far more journalists are selling pencils on street corners and trying to learn fake Italian as barristas than coal miners?

Well, here’s the thing, journaljizzmers: We need coal. We don’t need you.

Coal gives us energy and heat. Coal is vital to our steel production. Said steel goes into countless vital products that our very lives sometimes depend on.

The Daily Five Minutes of Hateful Shitlib Propaganda gives us… What, exactly?

If coal vanished tomorrow, we’d feel it in catastrophic ways.

If what passes today for “journalism” was to suddenly disappear, nobody would notice. We’d actually have to reinvent journalism just so somebody could point it out to us. Sure, we’d have to find some other uses for those trees we’d no longer be chopping down and our bird cages might go unlined until we’d come up with a suitable substitute, but other than that?

Nobody would know.

Now, we’re not completely heartless. No, really. We don’t particularly like to see businesses go bankrupt, nor do we enjoy seeing people losing their livelihoods, but in your case, journaljizzmers, it’s a self-inflicted wound. Asking us to feel sorry for you is like demanding that we feel sorry for the pain of the idiot who keeps dropping hammers on his own feet.

You have a product. You’re losing your jobs because you can’t sell it. You bloody well KNOW why you can’t sell it, don’t even pretend that you’re that stupid, but you refuse to change the product. Because you know better than us proles what sort of product we’d like to buy, just like you always seem to know better that anybody else on a wide range of subjects that none of you have any sort of credentials in.

Guess you don’t know anything after all, eh?

People don’t like being told that they’re racist, cousin-humping, drooling, homophobic, rapist idiots. Yeah, shocking we know, but you keep telling them that they are and then expect them to pay for the privilege of having a bunch of subsentient window-lickers like yourselves call them names?

You really are a very special, rare kind of stupid, aren’t you?

You’ll also be extinct very soon so…

Good riddance.

Thatisall.