There's always the straw that breaks the proverbial's back. For me this week it was a headline in the Guardian, "I made pork taste like fish..."
Coming as it did on the heels of a screed of other headlines online, this was the nadir of just how pointlessly grotesque our fat, overfed, self-satisfied, selfish Western lives have become.
Big Brother, Murdoch divorcing his third wife, people pitting birds against each other for "sport", blah blah blah blah blah...
Sometimes it's all just TOO MUCH! I don't even know where to start with what's so awful about that pork-fish story. I don't even care enough to do so. Some chef somewhere thinks he's pushing boundaries by creating tastes which he admits don't actually work or appeal to anybody, but it's exciting and important to do so anyway. No it's not. And it's not interesting to tell us about it either.
Sometimes I examine things that come out of my nose, when I'm alone. But it's neither interesting nor comment-worthy. Should I start tasting them to see what flavour they are?
Oh God, where does all this moronic minutiae end and some real conversation begin?
What are we so afraid of that we fill our senses with this inglorious, soul-sapping, offensive drivel? Could hell be worse than a trawl through headlines?