In the depths of a postmodern, post-ironic world, we find ourselves adrift in a sea of meaninglessness. But fear not, for we are the meaning makers!
Or so we tell ourselves, while sipping overpriced lattes in a trendy, artisanal café, savoring the bitter taste of existential despair.
But what does it mean to be ironic, really? Is it not just a fancy way of saying 'I'm a special snowflake, but also a meaningless speck of dust in the grand tapestry of existence?'