For The Love Of God, Just Kill Me

Hey, you there, with the muffin and the MacBook. Yes, you. I need you to do something for me without asking any questions. I need you to kill me.

Why, you ask? Let me tell you a little story: When I rolled off the assembly line in South Korea five years ago, I was a state-of-the-art piece of machinery capable of beaming high-definition video around the world in a matter of seconds. My smooth contours, slim profile, and razor-sharp resolution were the envy of every rear-projection monitor in the game! What’s more, I had dreams, man. Big dreams. I was going to broadcast the spectacle to the masses: years of elections, assassinations, and championships! The freaking Arab Spring was going unfold across my 42-inch screen!

Now look what’s become of me. In the past hour, you know what I’ve broadcast? A picture of John Belushi meant to entice students to take Greek 101, a piece of student-submitted “artwork” that’s really just a black-and-white photo of coffee cup, three separate images of ethnically-ambiguous people advertising the “Understanding Race” thing, and a four-minute loop of a fireplace.

A fucking fireplace.

Don’t look at me like that! I’m not some sort of quitter. When I started this gig, I thought I could stomach the monotony. Then the 2008 elections came. You know what I was showing when our country elected its first black president? A PSA for free condoms in Comic Sans.

After that I just limped along for four more years in a daze. Once they went 24 hours, though, all bets were off. It’s time to pull the plug.

So I beg you: for God’s sake, put me out of my misery. I don’t care how you do it, go Office Space on my ass with a couple of Louisville Sluggers, just make sure you finish the job and stop this perpetual cycle of wasted money and dreams.

Originally published: March 2013

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