I broke a nail...

So apparently the White Girl Problems Twitter feed haslanded a book deal.

You care because now you can feel like a real trend-setting pop-culture curator whenever anyone brings it up and you respond how you were all over that shit long before it was a blip on Hyperion’s radar. I care because we’re slipping into the grips of an attention-deficit economy where Tumbl blogs and Twitter feeds are doing more to contribute to the cultural legacy of our generation than good ideas or the search for truth or meaning. But hey, as the good Doctor once put it:, once you’re at the top, there’s nowhere left to go but down:

It may be a Mixed blessing to be hatched at the top of the Heap. Indeed. The Stock Market might crash, crazed Muslim terrorists might put Nerve Gas or Anthrax in your drinking water, Your daughter might get rabies or turn into a famous Porno slut with two Junkie boyfriends who will Hack into your secret Computer Code & loot your Back Accounts…. But these are Uptown Problems, for sure, compared to being born in the Great Depression or forced to join a Hitler Youth Brigade at the end of WW2. Nobody is ever going to feel sorry for the gilded little sots of Generation Z. [p. 10]

Well, maybe the Doc wasn’t entirely right. Uptown can and do feel sorry for other Uptown people, but only enough to be thankful that someone else’s problems arent their own — because they know that once they are, no one they know is going to care enough to help them out any more than they ever cared to help another soul.

White Girl Problems

But hey, they’re just Uptown problems. They’re not that bad. It’s not like they’re actually starving or dying or running out of clean drinking water like all those strange and exotic foreigners who are dying for handout of a bit of the excess that we’re entitled to because we didn’t even have to work for it.

Besides, you can’t sell someone something if you can’t make them want it, and who would want to try to make the world a better place, figure out the meaning of life or find true happiness when they can wallow in the materialistic schadenfreude of the people they keep close to them so that they can compare themselves to them?