Suppose that you're not actually out driving around in your SUV, polluting the world, or at your corporate 9-to-5 gig, oppressing the underemployed and offshored. Suppose you're just sitting at home, enjoying some locavore charcuterie and an impertinent little red from upstate, doing a little Netflix 'n' chill with a friend...
How are you supposed to feel existential guilt about that? You're not out clubbing baby seals or reprogramming Volkswagens. Instead, you're sitting at home minding your own business and that's a damned hard thing about which to feel guilt, and if you don't feel guilt, how are you supposed to know that you're better than all those people who don't feel guilt?
Never fear, HuffPo to the rescue!
Don't worry little SWPL; pull that hairshirt back on! *tousles SWPL's hair* You're still guilty! Have you stopped to consider the carbon footprint of the Netflix server farms, which is surely (if infinitesimally) increased by your annual holiday watching of Love Actually
?See! Now you can let the guilt roll over you again without even having to get off the couch.
(h/t to Joel.)
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