Amazon reviews are like the voices in my head. I only pay attention to the bad ones.
Say I want a patio umbrella. I find one on Amazon with 4,789 reviews with 4 1/2 stars. Wow, I say to myself. I found my umbrella. It’s the perfect orange. It has lights, so I’ll feel like I’m sitting beneath the stars. It tilts in case I crave a moment of unadulterated, decapitated ozone sunniness. I place my finger on purchase now.
Slow down, Indy. Why don’t I check out what the reviewers said? Don’t worry about the fact that we live in a batshit crazy world, where at least half the population believes in lizard-eating politicians, and the other half is so bored they‘d give a bad review to lasso some spice into their mundane existence.
My eyes lock onto the one-star review. What does the one-star reviewer know that the 4,788 other people don’t know? Or maybe they all know! Maybe there is only one honest person on the internet.
I feel deceived by the 4 1/2 star people. What a load of Pollyannas! Who are they trying to impress with their kiss-ass reviews? I’m trying to shop at the one-stop world domination store, people. Can’t we all just tell the truth?
“One star,” it says. “I’m only giving it one star because you can’t give something negative four stars. My box showed up broken. No screws came with the kit. There was a dead body in the box. This was obviously used because there was a cigarette butt in the seat cushion.”
Whew. Glad I read that review. I don’t question it. I don’t think, “Seat cushion? I thought this was a review for a patio umbrella.”
The other 4,788 reviews were obviously bots. That one bad review must be the only real one. Good thing I read it. I almost bought a crime scene missing a few screws.
Hey! You know what this reminds me of? The voices inside of my head. I can be Prom Queen, get a book deal, marry someone who actually likes me, but you know what stands out? That one asshole who I met at a party in high school who said, “You have a big nose.”
Why? Because this was my greatest fear. Girls are supposed to have tiny noses. I didn’t know what gaslighting was back then. I didn't know guys told girls they were ugly to get in their pants. Who could have guessed horny dudes had that kind of ingenuity?
Five stars. Four stars. Two stars. Negative four stars. One man’s four stars is another man’s one star. Funny fact about stars is they’re dead by the time we see them. Well, a lot of them. Everybody knows that dead star fact, but they keep using that line in romantic teen flicks.
The boy and the girl are looking up at the sky. She points at a star. “Pretty,” she says because she’s a moron, and she’s never seen a star. He nods knowingly. He’s smarter cause he’s the boy.
“It’s already dead,” he says. “We are all gonna die. Let’s have sex.” Those aren’t his exact words, but that’s the gist of it.
Summation. Girl loses her virginity. It turns out an actual smart boy passed that star fact onto the attractive moron boy. The girl is devastated but is still attracted to the attractive moron. Then, someone tells me I have a big nose, so I make out with him. I end up buying an umbrella on Amazon with zero reviews because you can’t trust anybody. The cycle of life.