Is it Socially Acceptable to Like Yourself?

Of course, I mean on Facebook. It's socially acceptable to like yourself as a person, although if you wish to possess 'hip' qualities then it's better you skulk around in a dumpster and sing along to Okkervil River songs. If you want to think yourself funny or attractive or intelligent - feel free. This is a free society, and self-delusion is a widely-accepted form of personal repression. The moment you go on Facebook, however (Facebook is a social website where you go to see how the kid who sat opposite you in French is doing in his quest to become chairman of the student support committee for Winchester), things change. If you show any sign of being fond of yourself, people will immediately form a war commission and judge you guilty of smugness.

Why? Why do we still insist on destroying the egos of the smug and tactless? I'll admit to liking myself on many an occasion, as I make a succession of hilarious jokes and snappy one-liners on Facebook. I am endlessly fascinated by my own life, and want to make sure that as many people as possible know the extent to which I am brilliant. To investigate this further, allow me to look upon the faces of reality TV. When we watch X-Factor or Britain's Got Talent, we watch not for the struggle to be the best (most people get bored by the time of the tenth week, when everyone has started to sound alike and the main discussion is "Dannii Minogue: amazing or irritating?") but instead for the opening stages. Watching people find out they are not good at singing or being talented is where most people find their joy in the show. So what if they look sad? Did you hear that attempt at a High C? Classic!

We don't want people to delude themselves. In this age of high-class media prostitution, we require everyone to be brutally honest about their shortcomings. It may be great news that Angelina Jolie is opening up a new care centre in Africa, but did you see 'The Tourist'? Total bomb, dude! We seem to want that every act of brilliance be countered by an acceptance that there were negative side-effects. We can't be happy about someone doing something good, because their clothes clashed while they did it. Instead of celebrating the poor people who are brave enough to go on stage to pursue their dream of becoming a professional self-welder, we laugh at them for being odd or kooky. But...

Being odd and kooky is a marvellous achievement, worthy of extended merit. Facebook has that 'like' button for a reason - to celebrate individuality and silliness. Would you prefer that there was a "While proud of my achievement today, I accept that there were several drawbacks to my success which will affect me in the long-term" button? Do you want everything to conclude with a downbeat tone? Surely it's more amazing that we can say something stupid and be proud of it, aware that we're being idiots but leaving that as a subtext. I applied to be a nuclear advisor a few days ago, a job I will never get because I have no qualifications whatsoever. But it was FUN to do it! And heck, I told everyone on Facebook about my hilarious attitude towards job-hunting, and I liked the bejewelled hell out of it.


To summarise, when I 'like' one of my own posts on Facebook, it is an affirmation that I am not only brilliant, hilarious, handsome and clever... but the most individual kook you ever saw. Basically, I'm the greatest person ever. Feel free to write comments below which confirm this summary. I'll read them at my leisure, before reposting the best ones on Facebook. And 'like' them, of course.

Heroic Moments I’ve Had

1: Helping Rosa Parks

Back when segregation was still an active part of life in America, citizen Rosa Parks, a black woman, took a bus. She sat down, as she had to, in the area designated for blacks, and the bus set off. However, on this particular day the bus route was very busy, and quickly the white section of the bus grew to be completely full. As most conductors did at the time, the man on this bus came over to tell the black citizens to get up and get out of the way so that the white folks could sit down. I was there when this went down.

As I was sat behind Rosa at this time, I realised that this could be a way of gaining momentum for the cause of the black people, and I quickly gave her a dead leg just before the conductor came over to her. He asked her to get up and she refused, because her leg didn’t work and she wouldn’t be able to get up properly. She turned to look at me and I gave her a wink, which was the moment when she realised what I intended to happen. She turned round and sat there, holding steady in the face of segregation.

That evening I walked up to a church and went inside, going up to one of the men who was sat inside. I told him to turn the TV over to the news channel. He did what I asked, and the main story for that day was all about Rosa Parks. The man stood up, and he said that he would have to do something about all this – so I suggested he go visit a man called Ralph David Abernathy. I watched with pride as this young man, called Martin Luther King Jr, left the church for the evening. My work was done.

Don’t thank me: I was just doing what was right.

Five Beatles Songs That Make No Sense

3: Blackbird

What ‘They’ Say The Song Is About

Many people think that the song is about empowerment of some kind, with varying suggestions coming in saying that Sir Paul is trying to empower the South Americans, the female gender, blackbirds (Bill Oddie would be proud) or black people. In fact, a user who has for some reason decided that “1Cancer” would be a great idea for an internet forums name is the first to suggest that the song is about the plight of African-Americans, which leads to this classic reply from another user – “yeah, that’s what I heard too *agrees with 1Cancer*”. Now if that alone doesn’t single-handedly prove the genius of internet forums, I don’t know what does.


The Song, Then

You may have noticed that all the songs I tend to pick on are written by Paul McCartney, and the reason for that is that I haven’t ever forgiven him for breaking Jane Asher’s heart. Poor girl, she never knew what was coming. But anyway, let’s get to the song. Paul describes a bird singing at night-time, which for a start is biologically very very unlikely. Apart from owls, have you ever heard birds singing at night-time? Everyone knows that birds only sing in the early morning, and they only do it then so they can annoy anyone nearby who happens to be trying to sleep. Said it before, I’ll say it again: birds can be cruel. So say we accept this as fact though, that the bird has perhaps got a mixed-up bodyclock and starts singing at night-time. Showing his skills as an empathiser, he tells this bird with “broken wings” to learn to fly, which seems unnecessarily cruel to me. Dude, the thing is in some quite hideous pain right now, and you want it to fly? Why, is this one of your sick, sick games? You’re a monster, Paul McCartney!
And this is made worse by the fact that he continues to taunt the crippled creature with the line “you were waiting for this moment to be free”. Way to kick a bird when it’s down, McCartney! We’ve established that the bird is injured and in pain, and now you continue to taunt it endlessly? You’re a heartless Scouse bastard. Yet of course, many people would suggest this song is about black people, and there’s just one flaw with that logic: black people can’t fly. Or at least, not that I know of. I know black guys can jump really high, but I’ve yet to see them take off into the air and start soaring around merrily, laughing at the white folks below. Although… that would probably make for a good Stephen King novel.
So we’ve established that the song isn’t about black people – when have they ever had troubles, anyway? It’s not as if they were cruelly enslaved by other people for generation after generation and perceived to be an inferior race, people! What a—wait, what? They were? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH OLD PEOPLE? First they have all these wars, and now I find out they’ve been enslaving other races just because they’re different? I am so ticked off to hear that, you have no idea. I’m going to go to a residential home right now and beat up some pensioners, as my own personal way of making up for Segregation – black people of the World, I hope this small act helps in some way to heal the wounds that my ancestors caused for you.