I suggest women don’t read this one. I come off like a total jerk. (I am a fucking jerk, but whatever.)

Fucking YouTube. If I’m attempting to watch a 3 minute Rush music video, it’s fucking criminal to make me endure a 30 second advertisement about two girls not letting ‘that time of the month’ get in the way of having fun due to their deft use of Libra panty liners before a morning boot camp. No, Libra ad-people (as using the term ‘ad-men’ would be sexist and wrong… just like this deconstruction of women’s health products) I don’t EVER want to follow you on Facebook. Who THE FUCK would ever click ‘like’ on the Libra Facebook page anyway?

Well, curiosity got the better of me and I checked, and apparently 39,151 people would…

Man, that’s fucking depressing.

What brings a person to the point where they’re trawling the web and decide to follow Libra? What sort of internal monologue occurs to get to that point?

“Wow, I’m so glad that my trusty sanitary napkin stopped me from bleeding all over the place at lunch with the girls today. That would have been a real whoopsy, what, with the white cotton seat covers and all! Yes, Libra, I do very much ‘like’ you!”

I double-checked to ensure none of my Facebook friends (half of whom are retarded cunts that I would actively cross to the other side of the street to avoid talking to – isn’t Facebook funny like that? That’s another story for another day, kids…) were fans of the page – there was only 1 person, a bloke. An ironic like perhaps? Oh well, he’s still getting a letter sent to his home containing a Polaroid picture of me giving him the finger in a pair of sullied Y-front underpants and 10 grams of Anthrax for buying into Libra’s corporate shtick. Hope that fucker dies in front of his mum, or something.

“Mum, I love you… (Cue painful death involving vicious seizure)”

This and so many other innocuous corporate presences got me thinking – too many things exist in this Universe that go unquestioned… to think that there’s actually someone out there in fucked-up evil marketing land sitting behind some underutilized MacBook Pro, manning Libra’s Facebook page, updating their blog & responding to followers. They’d be calling it ‘an online presence’ too, because that sounds better than, “I do a job that anyone with a fleeting notion of the human condition and the ability to use spell-checker could do.”

Excuse the pun, but what a cunt that person would be (not really a pun, more of a topical proximity-based joke). I just imagine meeting that person at a dinner party (I’d already be fucking ropeable due to the fact that I’m at a fucking dinner party) and having some completely banal conversation about what I do/what they do/how lovely the wine is/how the Arab spring was great for democracy blah blah blah when we’d undoubtedly start talking about his/her job (as discussion is always steered towards careers by these types).

I’d imagine the conversation being a akin to peeling the individual layers off of an onion, revealing more and more detail of the individuals’ true nature with each layer.

“Oh, so you work in communications?”

“Oh, so you work in marketing?”

“Oh, digital marketing?”

“Oh, you manage an online presence for a product?”

“Oh, it’s a women’s health product?” (At this point, I’m realising that I’m about to hit paydirt.)

“Oh, it’s maxi-pads?”

I’m not leaving that conversation until those metaphorical onions have been chopped up directly underneath that person’s face…

Can’t advertising taglines be a little more transparent?  

“Libra – Don’t bleed without it!”

/end communication

PS: No Rush fan would ‘like’ Libra’s page, ever.