Twitter Employee Is 'Broken' Over Elon Musk

(AP Photo/Jeff Chiu, File)

Much has been made about Elon Musk buying into Twitter and earning himself a seat on the board. Except by me. So with your indulgence (or without it), I’ll take my shot.


Jay Holler, a manager at Twitter reacted to Musk’s arrival by stating that Musk’s “radicalized” appointment to the board had “broken” him. He proceeded to hold a Twitter tantrum about how awful Musk is.

Broken? Really? Are you actually going to go with “broken”? Let me tell you about broken, Sport.

I went on a mission trip to Cambodia to combat human trafficking. I saw girls as young as five who had been trafficked into the sex trade. I met another girl who was confined to a wheelchair because she was too young to be a laborer, so her captors injected her with a toxin to destroy her nervous system and put her on the streets with a can to beg. She died in that wheelchair.

That’s broken, you pretentious arse.

In Cambodia, Haiti, and South Africa I saw people who lived in houses made of cast-off garbage because they could not afford to live in a real house. Some houses were made of sticks. No, they weren’t in the sticks; the houses were made of sticks.

That’s broken, you insufferable man-child.

When I was a hospital chaplain, I had the privilege of sitting with a woman who departed this world for the next. Her cancer had metastasized throughout her entire body, and she had been abandoned by her friends and family.

That’s broken, you self-centered brat.

As “woke” as you may claim to be, your rant is the height of privilege. And you and your generation should be ashamed that your level of navel-gazing has reached such astronomic proportions.

I am a child of the ’80s, a time known for its bad hair, bad clothes, and cheesy music, and I plead guilty on all three counts. As the ’80s were at their peak, there was one particularly ridiculous song called “Safety Dance” by a group known as Men Without Hats. I admit it, in retrospect, we don’t have much to be proud of in that era, but it was fun. In tribute to the Traumatized Generation, I have penned my own version of that hit. Feel free to sing along if you know the tune.


 You can bitch if you want to

You can throw yourself a fit

You can scream and yell, raise all kinds of hell, and the world won’t give a s**t

 You can post if you want to

You can fill your feed with dread

But I’m tellin’ you, Ace, there ain’t no safe space except the empty one in your head

You can piss!

And moan!

You can cancel if you want to

Do the work and be aware

But you and your five Twitter followers will be the only ones who care

Protest if you want to

Paint your face and boycott class

You might be concerned to finally learn we don’t care about your narcissistic ass

You can piss!

And moan!

You can trans if you want to

You can have your sex reversed

Give up your male freedom, you may finally get that threesome in Zuckerburg’s Metaverse

Put on your big boy pants

Put on your big boy pants

Put on your big boy pants (fade)



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