I may have found it… the motha-load, the Source, the dark, beating, cancerous heart of the Beast of Mediocrity.
Certain sorts of websites are bad enough, catering to the oreo-stuffing, self aggrandizing, overblown and hyper-poetic “BDSM” crowd- the masses, the bottom of the barrel, the lowest common denominator. These horrific sites tend to promote the worst concepts and basest premises to encourage the lowest possible standards of behavior and criminal levels of banality. They are an embarrassment on a vast scale…
But at least they are self-contained. You have to actively seek to wallow in the tripe, look for it. It can’t find you. Like worms, they flourish in their own foulness- but at least you have to turn over a rock to see the squirming. You have to take action.
What better way to say “I like butter. And Oreos. Please wrap me in ham.” than one of these fine, prepackaged, banal sentiments. Like those who favor them, they make no demands, hold no standards… a warm, sloppy gravy of meaningless sentimentality. And best of all, you can send them to other people. You can spread them. They are devoid of even the level of personal craziness and lonely, pathetic delusion that adds that special touch of flavor to the usual flickering-torch-gif-poetry-gorean-silk-kajira-butterball-blowhard-Master-ego-stroke site. This is devoid of even that. These cards are the BDSM online equivalent of eating spoonfuls of lard.
Crap has become even more contagious, like a virus mutating to become airborne.
Internet, how I hate you.
Now I have to go send a few cards