This morning, like most mornings, I pulled up to the Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru and ordered a large Dark Roast Iced Coffee from the extraordinary comfort of my award-winning Subaru Legacy. “Zero cream, zero sugar.” I loudly enunciated those words to the young woman taking my order, just to assure her that my ultra-masculine taste buds don’t need to be pampered with flamboyant sweeteners. To my surprise, she didn’t respond by audibly moaning, but instead by awkwardly pausing and then sheepishly uttering a forced script, asking if I’d like to donate a dollar to some pathetic charity I can’t recall because her soft, intimidated voice was drowned out by Jack Johnson’s Greatest Hits roaring from my stereo.

“Make it two dollars,” I instantly replied, just so she’d know precisely what’s good with my bank account and moral compass. But before her feeble larynx could vocalize a moan, I was already at the drive-thru window, eagerly waiting to be caffeinated while the uplifting sounds of Banana Pancakes preemptively sent a jolt of energy throughout my CrossFit-chiseled body. The face-to-face transaction was anticlimactic, but I could tell by the confused look on that naive barista’s face that she was completely unprepared to be so aroused at such an early hour. I guess it’s not everyday that a rugged, yet noble, philanthropist pulls up to your workplace in a best-in-class all-wheel drive midsize sedan and speeds off into the rising sun right before your eyes.

I’m not really going anywhere with this story; I just wanted to make everyone a little uncomfortable with the creepiest and douchiest introduction I could think of on the spot. The real reason for this blog is to address the same topic I always seem to address: Twitter sucking a treacherous and ungodly amount of ass. At this point, I’m beating a horse that’s been dead since Seabiscuit and grabbing a fruit that’s hanging lower than the average, visible scrotum in a YMCA locker room. Unless you’ve been comatose or cryogenically frozen for the last 5–8 years, you’re at least somewhat aware that Twitter has been swiftly devolving into a digital cesspool that’s overflowing with millions of fluid characters worth of contaminated thoughts and opinions. It’s only been, like, 3 weeks since I last wrote about Twitter being a garbage dump, but I swear to @jack, the site has somehow managed to get significantly worse in that short timespan.

Fall is here, which means a cornucopia of Caucasian cornballs will be concocting and consuming atrocious tweets like the ones above, at unprecedented rates. And if the oddly, over-exaggerated excitement for mundane autumn activities doesn’t tickle your fancy, then take the butternut squash out of your ass and learn to love it, because that’s exactly what’s going to be infiltrating your timeline for the next 2–3 months. Viral tweets don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.

It should also be noted that the demand for hyper-corny, quasi-romantic tweets are at an all time high around this time of year. Just like the autumn leaves coming down, thousands of young adults are completely depleted of serotonin, because they spent the entire summer abusing neurotoxic drugs at music festivals and depriving their malnourished bodies of essential nutrients. This chemical imbalance in the brain leads to emotional vulnerability and the desperate yearning for a partner who will comfort them and provide them with happiness. That’s why they’re so quick to fall for the redundant tweets about going on hayrides and carving pumpkins with a significant other. Not because they actually enjoy tediously sticking a knife in a thick, pulp-filled orange vegetable, but because they crave the opportunity of having a lover who will do anything at all with them.

With the change of seasons also comes the change of identities. It’s a time when edgy teens can switch up their Twitter name from Bipolar Avocado Thot to Spooky Pumpkin Cunt and tweet shit like: “forget shower sex, fuck me in a witch’s cauldron.”