Nation of Degeneration

Before we get to the so-called satire, let’s luxuriate in a little backstory.

A recent report in the Wall Street Journal examined the endless horrors of Instagram and highlighted how an alarming number of middle-aged men possess an insatiable appetite for images and videos of scantily clad “kidfluencers”.

Yes, I agree in a civilized society that sentence wouldn’t exist.

Better still, the journalist who wrote the piece interviewed the parents of several prominent child influencers and asked them why they allow their kids to remain on the platform. Especially when they know — and have been presented with proof — incels and sex creeps traffic photos of their children on Telegram and brag about how much they’d like to fuck them.

The rationalizations provided by the parents are breathtaking.

To give you a sense of the skullduggery, I collected these lowlights from the WSJ piece.

There’s this:

“It wasn’t like I was trying to push her to be a star, but part of me thought it was inevitable, that it could happen someday,” the mom said. “She just has that personality.”

And this: 

“It’s not that I liked it, ever. Ever. It just is what it is,” the mom said. At times, she’s questioned her decision to keep the account going. The account dashboard had recently put the number of male followers at 92%. At one point, she offered Instagram subscriptions to users willing to pay a monthly fee for extra photos and videos. Many of them were also men.

And this: 

One man, speaking about one of his favorite young influencers in a Telegram exchange captured by a child-safety activist, said that her mother knew “damn well” that many of her daughter’s followers were “pervy adult men.”

“We’re all model scouts, agents and brand owners,” another man replied in jest. “We’re totally NOT jerking off to the pics.”

And this:

In one exchange saved by child-safety activists about another young girl who now has more than 300,000 followers on Instagram, a user digitally altered a photo of her wearing a tank top to make it look like she was wearing a micro-bikini top, with only small triangles of fabric.

“You guys like my improvement?” he asked the group.

“Beautiful breasts,” another responded. “How old is she?”

A person in the group used Google to identify the girl and determine she was 13 or 14 years old.

And finally this:

The [Meta] staffers found that some accounts with large numbers of followers sold additional content to subscribers who offered extra money on Instagram or other platforms, and that some engaged with subscribers in sexual discussions about their children. In every case, they concluded that the parents running those accounts knew that their subscribers were motivated by sexual gratification.

Yes, I agree these snippets defy comprehension, and yes this whole idea transcends the concept of satire.

Nonetheless, after reading the article, and in a fit of rage/despair/disgust, I whipped up an earlier version of the piece below.

Brace yourselves — the pain will be over soon.

Look, I get it. You saw my thirteen-year-old daughter modeling a G-string on Instagram, and you’ve already judged me, and you’ve already decided I’m a no-good, terrible, exploitative father.

Yes, and, unlike you, I can now afford to send my objectified child to college. And also, unlike you, I’m not going to die alone in a dark alley, scrounging around for scraps of Papa Johns. Oh, and also, I’m helping my daughter realize her artistic vision, or whatever.

Frankly, I don’t know what you pearl clutchers expect me to do. She’s the total ham. She’s the one who loves dressing up in skin-tight clothing and prancing around all sexy-like for strange men.

I suggested she study astrophysics. Or computer science. It’s not my fault she wants to be a ballerina. I can’t make her choose a lucrative career path, and — since I’ll obviously have to support her until I die — it’s only logical for me to pad my personal nest egg.

Of course I know she’s just a kid. And of course she knows hard work and unyielding passion are the best ways of accomplishing her goals. Who do you think raised her?

But there’s a big difference between working tirelessly to accomplish your creative goals and shamelessly manipulating the Instagram algorithm. I’ve watched my precious angel wear modest outfits and perform Swan Lake to perfection and receive three likes from her tweeny-bopper friends.

I’ve also posted a six-second Reel of her twerking in a black leather Catwoman costume and had 325,000 middle-aged men leave glowing comments like, “Purrrr!!!” and “I’d hit that.”

Do you know how many big-time brands reached out after she performed “W.A.P.” in a French Maid outfit? Jimmy Dean paid me five hundred bucks to have her eat one sausage. On a per calorie basis, I’m making Bill Gates money.

And you wouldn’t believe what I earn from private photo sales. Pedos on Telegram pay thousands of dollars for exclusive photos, videos, and webcam access. I told my baby girl she could never meet these perverts in person, but if she wants to explore her body on a livestream for millions of dollars per year, who am I to say no?

I’m simply responding to the whims of the marketplace!

Yes, yes, I know capitalism is evil, libs. But maybe you fascists should realize my little muffin’s also performing a vital public health service for our once proud nation. She’s like an emotional support dog for millions of disaffected patriots.

Really, if you think about it, this is all Soros’ fault. If he hadn’t stolen the 2020 election, America would still be great, and honorable men wouldn’t need to jerk off to prepubescent girls to cope with our empire’s decline.

Also, what better way is there to teach my little sugar cookie about the patriarchy? The world is chock-full of dangerous hombres, and she might as well learn firsthand toxic men will always try to exploit her for their personal, professional, and political gain.

By the time my sweetheart’s in high school she’ll be way ahead of her peers. I’d argue my parenting approach is downright progressive.

And, to be clear, not every middle-aged man on Instagram is some lecherous groomer. I follow all of my daughter’s influencer friends, and it’s not like I’m aroused by the suppleness of their skin. Or spend hours ogling their lithe little frames and subtle curves, which reveal their womanly fruits are just now ripening. I’m not a sexual deviant! I only follow them to support their art!

Worst of all, you’re ignoring how much Meta’s doing to keep my daughter safe. For example, Zuck’s acknowledged there’s a problem. Multiple times.

You know, think whatever you want, but I’m extremely proud of my sweet little girl. She’s fearlessly pursuing her creative passions, and I’m profitably pursuing early retirement.

Working together has brought us closer than ever. And what greater reward could a father ask for than forging a lifelong bond with his money-minting daughter?