I see it splayed out there on the sidewalk like the entrails of the critter the cat has brought home for adoration. The new phone book is here. Countless beloved trees killed to make this piece of crap that I do not want and will not use, laid out here like it’s some kind of prize. Great choice, humanity: chew up the lungs of this planet so that we can keep making these dinosaurs that are out of date by the time they are printed. Hasn’t anybody heard of the Internet?
I creep up on it like the cat approaching its prey. When it fails to move, I pounce, giving it a resounding kick. Emboldened by its passivity, I stomp on it, then drop to my knees to pummel it, screaming “fuck the phone book!”
Sometimes I forget that I live in a world where everything stupid that anyone does ends up in a viral video.
But I feel a lot better.
Turns out that fucking phone book is good for something after all.