The Jeopardy Of The Instagram Unfollow

I’ve been on a bit of a purge recently. Sick and tired of feeling ignored, and needing a better gauge of who’s actually paying attention, I’ve unfollowed anyone who wasn’t following me back on Instagram. Even though I enjoyed many of the posts, I have decided to ditch those whom I had previously followed out of a want to balance the mutual interest. Gone has Sabina and her culinary inventions. Gone has my sister’s goddaughter Morgan with her proto-anarchistic and radical memes. Gone is Keeley and her screenshots from Tumblr. Gone have many, not out of dislike, but out of balance.

Even though this has thankfully left me with many conscientious fellows, it has also left me with postings of the more apathetic and impulsed follower. Specifically, it is my cousin’s son who has provoked this post. For days now I have been checking into Instagram to see what my diminished band of mutualists have uploaded. Unfortunately, no one has uploaded anything. And it is a subsequence of this that I continually keep getting greeted by what is supposedly Justin Bieber’s dick.

Now, I’m not really inclined to see anyone’s dick. In fact, I’m not really inclined to see any intimate photo of anyone at this moment in time. I resisted my voyeuristic urge to see Jennifer Lawrence’s hacked naked photos out of a want to shore up my resilience and lend support against violation and intrusion. I will not lie, I would like to see Jennifer Lawrence naked, there are many women who I would like to see naked, but only if they want or are welcoming for me to see them naked. I have no problem with anyone, anyone! being naked whenever they want, wherever they want, if they want to be. I’m an easy going dude in this regard.

Yet, seeing Justin Bieber’s static knob day after day is becoming tedious. It’s like an advert made specifically to mock me. 1. I have a heavily weighted preference for the female form, if given the choice. 2. I really dislike marketing and advertising as a consequence of studying the fallibilities of the human mind and how those fallibilities are exploited. 3. I don’t mind people being celebrated, but I dislike celebrity. 4. I don’t think Justin Bieber is a very good role model. I’m not worried that I’m going to be turned homosexual by Justin Bieber’s dick through the exploitation of my mental capacity in the form of advertising. I’d have no problem being homosexual if I was homosexual. I don’t even mind people posting pictures of Justin Bieber’s dick on Instagram, just as long as Justin Bieber doesn’t mind. I just do not want to see it for days on end.

I do not blame my cousin’s son for apparently being attracted to Justin Bieber. I do not blame Sabina, Morgan, Keeley and the rest for not following me back. I do not blame my remaining follow reciprocates for not posting a distraction. I do not even blame Instagram for not having a deactivation process similar to Facebook and Twitter. Though, if I were more reactionary, self pitying and paranoid I’d feel it were a bespoke contrivance specially formulated for me.

I know I’m far from being the most prolific poster to Instagram. In fact, if the mathematics of my upload rate were an average Instagram would be regarded a failure. But, come on people. It doesn’t take much to outstrip me. 3 days is far too long not to be posting anything. Excellent black and white photo of two dogs playing on the beach. That conversation screenshot that I really don’t understand. I loved that pic of a bonfire; have you got any more? A pizza? Anyone have a picture of a grumpy cat? A ‘Keep Calm and Follow Everyone’ meme? Anyone? Anything? Not Justin Bieber’s dick though… Anyone’s dick but his.

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