"‘Who Cares?’ Writes Man on 8th Reply to a Sports Meme He Feels Nothing For"

"Do people actually laugh at this stuff?" a local man grumbled under a sports meme he found neither offensive nor amusing.

Five minutes later, unable to let it go, he added: "I don’t even understand how pages like this exist." His blank stare betrayed no emotion as he refreshed the screen, his apathy somehow tinged with a strange urgency only he could manifest.

"Who even follows pages like this?" he typed, blissfully unaware that he was one of the page's oldest and most loyal followers. The shiny "Top Fan" badge that adorned his rants went unnoticed, like a crown he neither wanted nor acknowledged.

"This is the kind of dumb shit that got [insert hated politician] elected," he proclaimed, a modern-day polymath of internet commentary, expertly weaving sports memes into the fabric of political catastrophe. In his mind, this was the decisive blow… a masterstroke that would shatter the faceless page creator, an insignificant figure unworthy of his time or attention. Triumph was assured, even though he insisted he neither cared about the fight nor its resolution.

"I doubt the quote in this meme is even real," he typed with certainty, scrutinizing a post from a satirical page whose bio proudly proclaimed, "Nothing is real here." This was the same page infamous for its recurring tales of a weather-controlling android quarterback—stories he had previously taken at face value but was now beginning to question, spurred by the unsettling realization that this particular meme failed to provoke any outrage within him.

"I’m reporting this page," he announced, failing to notice that Facebook had long since stopped reviewing his daily barrage of spam complaints about things he didn’t understand.

"Who even takes the time to make this garbage?" he mused, before spending the next hour crafting a 2,000-word email to Facebook about a post he swore didn’t matter.

"Who cares?" he concluded in his eighth comment on the thread.