‘Socialite’ is not an actual profession

All right, this one is for the kids. Now gather ’round because I’m not going to repeat myself. You need to go out and get a copy of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five. What is Slaughterhouse-Five? It’s a book. What’s a book? It’s one of the word sandwiches your parents keep on the shelf. Do you have a copy of it? Good. Watch this video:

Okay. Pop quiz: do you want to be this person?

If you said no, congratulations — you pass!

If you said yes, please smack yourself over the head with the word sandwich and then read it cover to cover.

Kids, you need to listen closely because, apparently, the simple fact that being a socialite is not actually a job is zooming straight over your heads. Not everyone is Paris Hilton. Nor should anybody be Paris Hilton, because she’s a lizard-faced demon-cunt.

I’m not going to outright bash Kevin Michael Barba because, in a lot of ways, he’s not entirely wrong. He wants what’s best for the world. The only problem is that he’s entirely convinced that he is the best for the world. I know this has been hammered into your head pretty hard, so I’m going to try to squeeze it out as gently as I can. Absolutely no one is special, little snowflake. But that’s okay because mediocrity is the one thing that ties humanity together. No one is so unique and interesting that he or she betters the world just by existing. You have to WORK to make it better by actually contributing to society in some meaningful way, even if it is just a simple little act.

Part of growing up is learning that you don’t need constant gratification for every little thing you do. Most people aren’t going to be celebrities or stars, and that’s okay. People whose names you’ll never know have made some of the most important contributions to society. Think of it this way: try to name three people who worked to downgrade HIV from a death sentence to a manageable illness that, with proper medication, will not decrease the length of one’s life. No? Then try to name three of the Kardashian sisters. See what I’m getting at here?

People knowing your name is not, nor should it be, the be-all and end-all for everything you do. Sure, people will say it’s all worth it as long as people are talking about you. But that doesn’t matter if the only reason they are talking about you in the first place is so that they can call you a talentless hack who fucked your way to the middle. As long as you actually work hard to do something you love that will help others, that’s all that counts.

All right kids, I’ve lectured you enough. Now go read some Slaughterhouse-Five for a little while. You can stay off Google+ long enough to at least knock off a chapter or two.