Because a new study has (sort of) found a correlation between trolling/bullying/being cynical on Twitter and dying in life, I’ve resolved to make this an overwhelmingly positive post: whatever is here discussed will be done in such a way that I won’t suffer from coronary heart disease. I’ll remain so positive as to not express any skepticism whatsoever re: the frequency of “scientific studies” that sound like the attention-grabbing biological equivalent of, well, an inflammatory Twitter post. The study in question, it turns out, just suggests that people who participate in cantankerous Twitter communities are more likely to drink, eat poorly, and cut themselves off from society — all of which are said to lead to coronary heart disease. Of course, if these people are being miserable on Twitter, they’re likely similarly miserable in life, and thus we’ve really learned very little. Except to stay positive and see everything, including this thing in which we learned very little, as an important learning experience.
A social media site that somehow gives you a dosage of arterial degeneration that’s proportional to your negativity sounds remarkably like something that’d be cooked up by a television show that mines the potential horrors of technology for hour-long master classes in unsettlement. But just as Twitter isn’t really the culprit in the previous study (the culprit, rather, is the human tendencies for which it provides a platform), Black Mirror isn’t so much about the evils of technology as it is about technology’s way of highlighting, and at times exacerbating, preexisting societal flaws. Check out Huffington Post’s interview with Black Mirror writer/creator Charlie Brooker on the series’ dark themes.
But again, we’re staying positive, so let’s quickly follow this with the good news that Salon has declared the end of the Hathahating era. Hell, I’ll come right out and say it: I liked Anne Hathaway even before I found out that Hathahatred could, if we’re following the same scientific logic as the aforementioned study, be linked to heart disease. I, for one, do not need to return to Hathaway’s side with my tail between my legs, begging her to restore my coronary health. Because, guess what? I was impressed by Fantine from the beginning. I robustly chuckled at her Katie Holmes impression on SNL. That being said, I did just consume a lot of chips and listen to the devastating Vulnicura, so the Hathahaters and I may not be in such different boats, health-wise.
While some found Hathaway’s depiction of Fantine’s death far too brutal and meticulous — or just too hammy — to endure, one cannot, however, say the same of these mythological paintings, wherein the dying really seem to be phoning it in. Of course, times were different when these paintings were made. They didn’t have Quentin Tarrantino and HBO and the New York Post to desensitize them to horrific images (though they did, I suppose, have life before 20th century medical advances). But even in these desensitized times of ours, there’s something that remains visually upsetting: stuff that isn’t genitalia that looks like genitalia. But right, we want to be positive. So I’ll introduce this last item by suggesting, simply, that you have a look at these adorable kittens, which may or may not actually be nauseating GIFs of movie monsters that look like dicks and vaginas. Happy trolling!