Ladies and gentleman.
Yesterday I was alerted to a horrifying new development in Mark Zuckerberg’s infamous pursuit of eccentricity.
Apparently, one of Mark Zuckerberg’s favorite pastimes is committing to a project for an entire year. These have included: wearing a tie every single day, learning Mandarin Chinese, and this year, apparently, he has committed to only eating meat he has killed himself.
It started out innocently enough. After watching Food Inc from the safety of his leather-encased home mega-theatre and in the ironic company of a bowl of Orville Redenbachers Ultra-Buttery popcorn, Zuckerberg, like all good liberal American 20 somethings, quickly began to feel shame and remorse about eating meat and non-organic vegetables and grains. Later, he overheard one of his coworkers talking about Eating Animals, and he was even more perturbed about the horrific slaughtering of the food that he ate off of his quadruple-gold-platinum-titanium clad plates and flatware every day.
Naturally, this was anathema to Mark. You see, Mark had grown up friendless, with only Disney characters to keep him company. You don’t get to be CEO of one of the world’s hugest companies by being friendly. No. The Social Network taught us that. (Poor Winkelman twins.) Anyway. One of Mark’s most favorite imaginary friends was Charlotte, of Charlotte’s Web, and since Charlotte’s most favorite friend was Wilbur, Mark thus also loved Wilbur. All of those years of his eating meat, he never made the connection between meat and dead animal — totally understandable, since when you go to the store, you don’t see pictures of dead animals, you just see packaged raw meat. WHO KNEW THAT STUFF CAME FROM ANIMALS BEFORE FOOD INC CAME OUT? When he finally figured out that he had been EATING his MOST BESTEST childhood friend all of those years, he puked in his mouth a little bit. And he resolved to himself not that he would stop eating his most bestest friend, but that he would only eat his most bestest friend if he could kill it himself. Because this is how Mark Zuckerberg’s mind works.
And thus Mark developed a taste for killing.
Unfortunately, it soon started to grate on him. What kind of a person was he, that he could kill his best friends and then EAT them? He started having nightmares. Wilbur came to him in his dreams, crying, asking “WHY? WHY? After all of those years, and those songs! oh!” Mark started showing up to work with bags under his eyes, his hoodies on inside out, and mismatched flip-flops. People were worried, but nobody wanted to ask. Weeks went by, with Mark shut in his glass-encased super-mod office, where he brooded over his unjust killing of his best friends. Silently, he alienated those who were closest to him: Mary, who brought him coffee, Charlie, who stood in front of him in the lunch line, and Bertha, who cleaned the bottoms of his Armani flip flops. Even the Taiwanese dry cleaning lady noticed a hunch in his shoulders when he picked up the one suit that he owns.
It was when Mark started watching Season 3 of Dexter that he finally realized the problem. You’re supposed to kill your enemies, not your best friends! With a new, discerning attitude, Mark swept his eyes around the office. A young brunette in Accounting who’d previously spurned his late-night sexual advances laughed flirtatiously with John in Customer Service. Teresa in International Product Development gossiped with Mary in Public Relations, their heads bent together secretly, confidentially. And the CFO and COO whispered together about something, frantically waving their hands. They were all against him. Mark knew it. Nobody was his friend. Nobody whispered with him like that. Nobody laughed flirtatiously with him. Mark pounded his fist on his table. The world was black and white to Mark: if you weren’t his friend, you were his enemy. He heard the word “google plus” drop out of the conversation between the CFO and COO, and he knew they plotted to overthrow this company he’d crafted with HIS OWN BARE HANDS.
Well, they were about to see what else he could do with his own bare hands.
The reasoning went thus: why was it okay to kill your best friends and then eat them, but if you killed your enemies, you had to bury them? This made no sense to Mark. Instead, he reasoned, let your best friends live, and eat your enemies! The general social antipathy towards cannibalism was unfounded, Mark thought. It made sense to eat those who opposed you. It was just evolution, but more advanced. Mark silently praised his own out-of-the-box thinking, the same thinking that led to his domination of the world social empire. This, he thought, would revolutionize food, save animals, and rid the world of lesser human beings.
As the days passed, Facebook employees started disappearing. The bags under Mark’s eyes started lightening up. The dry cleaning lady noticed a general perkiness in his attitude. His personal flip-flop cleaner stopped thinking about going back to school and started taking pride in his work, working for a man with such a congenial attitude. And the lunch line was filled with laughter again.
Mark never knew the true reason behind his ready acceptance of cannibalism. You see, if you look very closely at his right shoulder, what he has always thought to be a protruding freckle is actually a tiny fetus penis, leftover from 27 years ago in the womb, when he ate his twin fetus, gaining dominion over the womb and setting him on the path to greatness.