Today is a sad sad day for the internet. One of its best sites, Uber has died. Not so much in a physical way, but in a mental way, much like it has become senile. Silly, stupid, demented, and forgetful, Uber has been put in the hands of 3, as if one wasn't bad enough, high school girls - the same melodramatic rejects that probably attended your high school

The first, or the one as she refers to herself, is a talentless hack, but not in the good way, as she did steal the F. from F. Scott Fitzgerald, is F. Amelia Howes. F for fuckface or possibly for I am a stupid bitch who can’t write For shit and needs a theme song. Besides comparing herself to the likes of Fitzgerald, something I wouldn't be so callous to do, she says she deserves a theme song like Dark Vader’s. Her writing is full of asinine details that she thinks makes her characters (or her?) cool, like that she writes in a Lisa Frank notebook. I mean just because a writer thinks he/she is cool, doesn't mean you can add those little tidbits that you do, besides smoking and Zippo lighters, into your work. Worst of all, she apologizes to god in her first address to her new Uber audience. "I am the long-lost fourth revelation of Fatima. (Sorry God, just kidding.)" WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU INSULT GOD ON THE INTERNET AND THEN APOLOGIZE?! And it gets worse, "I am a bold leader, striking out into new territory, but I am also a follower." Needless to say, I don't actually have to comment on that. In addition, she makes Star Wars references and then apologizes to Patrick Stewart for calling him bald and old.

"Realistically, I probably won't get to run the ship very much. The website, I mean. Realistically, computers frighten me; I am writing this from a magic typewriter I found in my basement. Realistically, I am going to enlist one of my geeky little friends to make sure I don't screw everything up, but until then, I am prepared for these duties:"

F. A. Howes, REALISTICALLY, it astonishes me that you don't keel over and die because you've forgotten that breathing is necessary.

I can only pray that the other two high school girls in charge of my beloved Uber have more brain cells than that stupid bitch. Well this is a sad sad day; I have torn my clothing and will not be looking into any mirrors for seven days.