I hate selfies.  More specifically, I hate selfie takers.  If you are one of these people, I don’t apologize.  I hate you.  Not only are you narcissistic in the extreme, you also have reading comprehension problems.  Everything is not about you.  (Yes, this post is about you…but not specifically you, just the annoying, collective you).

Anyway, while these people clog up my Facebook page and corrupt the Internet, I plot their demise.  Well, not exactly plot.  It’s more like I curse them.  You know, like Voodoo or the Evil Eye or a plain old witches’ hex.  They post their selfies and I wish for their death and dismemberment.  And you know what?  My plan is working!  Pow Pow Pow – Eye of Newt and Bat’s wings Pow.  Already this year, seven people have died while taking selfies.  Seven!  We are on pace to beat last year’s record of twenty seven.  Yes.  You read that correctly.  Twenty-seven people met their demise while self- aggrandizing last year.  My curse is working.

It is especially working in India.  So many people have died in Mumbai that they now have six Selfie-Free zones.  While this sounds like fiction, it is absolutely true.  I am killing Indians like a 19th century Cavalryman.  I know, wrong Indians.  And poor taste.  I, like Coach Dale, apologize for nothing.  Because unlike those blood thirsty blue-eyed racist devils, I am on the side of decency.  And I have brown eyes.  Anyway, I think any sane person would agree that if somebody dies while taking a Selfie, they pretty much deserved their fate.  Except we know it’s not fate.  It is the Curse of Muffet’s Orange.

Of course, sometimes the curse only results in injury and not death.  It’s a curse, not a computer program.  The other day, five people were taking a selfie.  Next to a cliff.  You don’t have to be Nostradamus to know the end of this story.  They backed right off the cliff and were all badly injured.  If only we had the picture of all of them plummeting to their near doom.  There is a picture I would post one hundred times out of a hundred.  (You don’t know who Coach Dale is?  Is this a serious comment?  Because if it is, you look like a complete idiot.  “Cedar knob, they got no head-toppers.  Bunch of mites.  Run you off the boards…Watch that purgatory they call a gym.  No drive, twelve foot in.”)  That’ll do.

I hope the story of my curse is inspirational to you.  Because, in the end, that is what this blog is all about.  Inspiring others to do what they might have considered impossible.  You probably thought that stopping Selfies was a pipe dream.  But it isn’t.  I’m dropping these people like flies.  In traffic, over cliffs, off the boat.  The MO is an avenging angel, hell bent on reintroducing humility and reserve to an obnoxious world.  And that, my friends, is a message of hope and change that I think we can all get behind.

Except for you clowns that keep taking pictures of yourself in the mirror.  Real artsy.  414 million people have beaten you to this particular idea.  And, just so you know, a mirror can be dangerous.  Hex, hex, hex.

And a pin to the solar plexus.