Hey, You With The Spoilers — Knock That Sh*t Off!

by Sara Farrell Baker
Lisa S./ Shutterstock

I love the internet. It keeps me company, makes me laugh, tells me interesting things, and it has Amazon. What’s not to love? Which is why missing the original airing of a show is so upsetting. Not only do I have to wait for a convenient time to watch something I was already looking forward to, but now I have to avoid my BFF — the internet —until I’ve caught up.


Because the night is dark and full of spoilers. That’s why.

There are few things as rage-inducing as scrolling through your newsfeed only to see Sally Shithead that you knew in middle school posting about your favorite show.

“NOOOOOOOOO RIP (insert favorite character on favorite cinematic serial drama’s name)!”

Why you gotta be such a shithead, Sally? I knew I never liked that chick.

With as much time as the average person spends on social media a day (I’m not going to give you an exact number because it’s a lot, and I don’t want you to run away screaming from your computer before you’ve even finished reading my article), it should be accepted across the board that posting spoilers is fucked up. And thinking that writing SPOILER ALERT right before you spoil an entire season of Orange Is the New Black does not count as not spoiling. The eyes wander. I saw your alert, and I still saw your spoiler and you are a dick.

Nowadays, seeing a spoiler online is pretty much the same as walking into your local coffee shop before work, waiting in line, and having some guy run in the door to whisper “Caroline is Dominic’s secret lover and Jasminifred pushed her off a balcony after walking in on them,” in your ear before running back outside. You’re standing there shocked and angry, and your favorite show is now ruined.

Oh, and don’t know who Caroline, Dominic, and Jasminifred are? That’s because I made them up, and this is not actually a plot twist from any show. Because I am not a spoilery dicktwat.

But because this happens all the damn time, people are having to exile themselves from the internet until they can catch up on their TV viewing. Which sucks. And don’t come to me whining that you like to talk about your favorite shows with your friends. You can still do that. But do somewhere else, like a secret Facebook group that won’t spoil the day for all of your friends. Or go to a message board. Or I don’t know, talk to a person in real life for a minute about that character everyone likes on This Is Us having a major emotional breakthrough that made you cry. I’m sure it made your friend in real life cry too. You can cry together. It’s called bonding.

When an episode of Game of Thrones was leaked early this season, I came across a spoiler for one of the most epic scenes in the show’s history.

Before the fucking thing even aired!

I’ve added that person to my Arya Stark list of names because that is another level of spoiler evil. There is no excuse for being enough of a jackass to post a major spoiler before the majority of the viewing public has even gotten a chance to watch. I wanted to sit down with that person and ask who hurt them, who made them like this? Then yell “I don’t care!” before feeding them to my dragons.

Discussing plot twists and developments on Facebook and Twitter is a dick move. I don’t care how excited you are. I don’t care how you are emotionally distraught because you did not see that death/hookup/alliance/explosion/betrayal/incest coming. You text your friends about it. After confirming that they are fully caught up because missing the show for your daughter’s school play and getting a text during intermission about Jasminifred stealing Caroline’s baby is a friendship-breaking offense.

Take the oath now. Say the words.

Valar Nospoilerus. All men must not post fucking spoilers.