Tyrone Jamal J.r

Okay, hold up. I was a relatively well-adjusted adult. I had a nice book, a good cup of coffee, and an occasional LOL-worthy argument over, you know, adult nonsense. I mean, my deepest dreads were taxes, higher gas prices, and that existence dread that fills you with horror every Sunday night. And then Skibidi Toilet. I first noticed this. trend in my nephew, an iPad kid whose vocabulary these days includes primarily "Skibidi," "Dop Dop Yes Yes," and sounds that uncannily resemble a faulty plumbing system. I initially wrote it off as yet another passing internet trend. "Let them have their moment," I said to myself, imagining myself as a liberal voyeur of internet culture. Oh, how blind I was. For the blissfully uninformed, Skibidi Toilet is a collection of animated YouTube shorts in which a group of disembodied heads pop out of toilets and warble a catchy (read: mind-numbingly repetitive) tune. They are repelled by characters who have cameras, speakers, and televisions for heads, who are all gathered under the umbrella of… well, I don't actually know what they're calling themselves and frankly, I'm too scared to Google it. My Skibidi Toilet fad began innocently enough. I was bored. I was curious. I said to myself, "Okay, I'll watch one. Just one. For research." That one became five. Five became ten. And I know, I was instantly neck-deep in a lore that is somehow more confusing and maze-like than Lost's narrative. I was arguing the power levels of the different Cameraheads with my nephew (who, incidentally, was obviously mocking me about not knowing). I was belting out "Skibidi Dop Dop Yes Yes" in the shower. The metamorphosis was ghastly but helplessly funny. My mind, which had previously operated on a higher plane, now operated more or less in a toilet fight loop. My dialogue was dotted with in-jokes that made sense only if you'd invested an unholy number of hours viewing cartoon heads detonate off porcelain toilets. And then the lightbulb went off in my head. The ultimate, gut-level revelation: I, a full-fledged adult, was acting like an actual iPad kid. I discovered myself needing the rush of dopamine that the backgroundy visuals and incoherent plotlines had to offer. I was on YouTube for hours, trapped in the bottomless rabbit hole of Skibidi Toilet conspiracy memes and fan cartoons. I even found myself. ugh. using "Skibidi"-ing as a verb. The point of no return? I was debating with my nephew the best approach to leveling the Giant Skibidi Toilet. At that point, I gazed into the mirror of his shiny iPad screen – a bony-eyed specter of myself pushed to the edge of madness by a constant barrage of cyber toilet jokes. So, how has Skibidi Toilet transformed me? Well, I'm always exhausted. I possess a general understanding of internet legend I never requested. And I'm fairly certain my IQ has been lowered by at least 30 points. But hey, at least now I can talk fluently in the iPad kid's language. Perhaps it's a superpower? Perhaps it's merely an indication that I need to radically rethink my life decisions. Either way, Skibidi Dop Dop Yes Yes. Skibidi Dop Dop Yes Yes. That's all, folks! (I'm not even kidding. It's stuck in my head. Send help. It gave me up syndrome)