We unite with hashtags. We fight with hashtags. We beg for help with hashtags.

It takes a tragedy like Paris for us to see a wave of humanity. Then, we return to divisive behavior preventing us from learning about, or liking, each other.

Technology evolves quicker than our ability to communicate. We read headlines and share them blindly. Online coverage of anything can be spun 50 ways, but our lives shouldn’t be.

This story is an example of how easily we lose perspective. Satire and sarcasm are shared and people believe it’s real. Non-issues become issues overnight. Trolls and stubborn stances ignite vitriol.

We need to treat each other better, and it starts with us.

Pop lore says Bad Blood is Taylor Swift’s betrayal-anthem to Katy Perry. I think a dancer is involved, possibly a boyfriend. However, this isn’t about them.

This is about my (hypothetical) former friendship with the most coveted BFF in the world.

The first time I heard Bad Blood, I knew it was about me. I obviously hurt Taylor and I’m on a mission to apologize. I saw all her popular friends in the video and that hurt real bad. I mean I have tits too, I could have been a bad girl supporting a revenge metaphor!

Here’s the situation.

Taylor won’t answer my calls, and text apologies are lame; I’m laying it out so we can move on. Besides, there’s nothing more sincere than a public apology, especially, when that’s where the fighting takes place.

The title says it all. Bad is bad and seeing blood isn’t good – let that sink in for a second. Now, think about Katy Perry believing that was about her. It’s been a lot for me to carry and my back is starting to curve.

I always intended to apologize but, like Taylor, I’m a giver and I wanted to send the perfect gift with my apology. But, what do you give someone whose other best friend is Hot and Cold who kissed a girl and liked it? I am a boy, after all.

I was watching Dance Moms when the bulb lit. If it were a dancer, it would kicked me in the head.

Create a reality show for Taylor!

I’m waiting for Taylor to name the show since it’s her show, and I don’t need another song written about me.

The show is about a dancer and Paula Abdul is the choreographer. Paula was at the height of her music career in ’89 when the world received Taylor – it’s poetic.

The show is in Vegas – every dancer’s wildest dream!

Taylor is mama bird and she nurtures baby bird – a dancer discovered on Instagram – resulting in baby bird signing a Vegas contract without any drama!

My wildest dream is for baby bird to land on Katy’s very own Vegas stage and perform an interpretive dance to Roar.

Imagine Taylor in the front row while she and Katy crinkle their noses and paw at each other all cute like!

This will prove their blood is, in fact, good and she never expected any contract dancer (or boyfriend) to be loyal.

Lofty goals, right? I best get to apologizing.

The reason I didn’t name Taylor’s show (I’m thinking The Bird Nurturer) is because naming things caused our falling out. Taylor names everything. She names her songs. She names her cats. She probably names her fans’ cats. I think there’s a hashtag for that.

I even suggested she choose whether Katy’s fans are Kats or Cats. Bring a litter box for that shit storm! Fans of pop stars are a protective bunch, even with infighting.

Even more protective are pop starts, themselves, when it comes to what they call their fans.

Our turmoil began when I told Taylor I thought she should call her fans The Swizzle Sticks with the hashtag #tswizzlesticks to unite their online musings. I told her I thought her name should be Mother Swizzle Sticks because she is like their mother.

Her face went blank space. Never question an accomplished artist’s creativity and definitely lay off their fans. Role models with millions of underage fans won’t refer to them as drink accessories.

She accused me of trying to turn parents against her by encouraging underage drinking. She reminded me she’s a role model. Then, she asked me, persistently, if I knew what she was and wouldn’t relent until I screamed, “Role model!”

She accused me of talking to Katy because pop star espionage is real.

The damage was done. Trust flew out the window like a baby bird.

She told me it was so sad to think about the good times she and I had, but now we got problems.

I asked her, can we solve them? She said she didn’t think we could.

I asked her, do we still have mad love? She said we used to.

That’s a no. I hope we can put this behind us; we were so good together.

In addition to her show (hopefully called The Bird Nurturer), I created a new app because she needs more cash. It’s called Pocket Squad.

Your squad walks around your screen while you control everything about them. It’s perfect for members of squads. You can make them get eaten by a shark or pace back and forth all day. You can make birds poop on them or strike them with lightning. They can live on a beach or jungle. It’s your squad!

Basically, it’s what you wish you could do to your real life squad.

Taylor, I’m sorry. Call your fans whatever you want. Come on, old friend – I miss our mad love! #think-about-the-good-times-you-and-i-had!

It shouldn’t take a coordinated attack to remind us the hostility among ourselves is senseless.

I hope we can learn to keep perspective without the harsh reminders.

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