The elites said it couldn’t be done.
The pundits scoffed.
They cried out, “He won’t do it! The forces arrayed against him are too great.”
But that just made him look inward. To find the strength even he didn’t know he had.
So he picked up his iPhone. Gold. Clear case.
And he started typing.
Yes! He could write one of those breathless overly dramatic Facebook posts that tell the reader absolutely nothing.
Yes! He would pretend that the world was aligned against him so his stupid thoughts would sound profound.
Yes! He’d compare himself to the great longwinded heroes of the past who found the courage to share a bland 5,000-word nothingburger of a story with the 28 people whose feed they landed on.
The online Lincolns.
The JPEG Jeffersons.
The Teddy Roosevelts and their Rough Writers.
A veritable Mount Clicksmore!
And then he disappeared. His work done, he smiled and waited for the next chance to sucker some bored guy into reading his vainglorious self-serving crap.
Probably while sitting on the toilet.
And then he unleashed his final uncut gem of a thought.
“You’re welcome, Social Media. You’re welcome.”