Thank You, Zoloft

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Photo: freestocks.org on Unsplash.

Humor can be a buffer, sometimes.

Freaked out about the distinct possibility of World War III? Just Photoshop tiny Trumps until the threat of nuclear war no longer looms above your head.

Worried that the polar ice caps will keep melting and sea levels will keep rising and coral reefs will keep dying and global temperatures will keep breaking all-time records? Read The Onion articles with the air conditioning on until you can practically feel the earth cooling.

This is how I often deal with news-consumption exhaustion and a resulting feeling of powerlessness: replying to a sexist post with some witty retort, mocking male senators who call pregnant women “hosts” or sheriffs who discredit rape victims, installing a browser extension that displays Trump’s tweets in a childish scrawl. Sarcasm and satire keep me from holing up in bed in the fetal position, party pizza and a bag of chocolate chips alongside.

But some things require seriousness and, even scarier, vulnerability. I wanted to discuss something we see in the news often, and I meant to do it with humor—I wanted to present lowest moments as zany misadventures, talk about stigma in all-caps OUTRAGE. But as you’ll read, it didn’t quite work out that way.

I did include a poop joke.

Last updated: February 21, 2017, 11:26 AM by Madison Shumway

One thought on “Thank You, Zoloft

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