This past weekend, I incurred the wrath of a being so powerful, so deliciously omnipotent, that he's "known" by one name only. That's right, I was dragged into a holy Twitter war with the one and only FOODGŌD.
Oh, don't recognize that name? Unfamiliar with the almighty? For the 99% of you who have yet to be indoctrinated, I'll provide a brief backstory:
Jonathan Cheban is Kim Kardashian's professional best friend. He has no discernible talent or profession. He spends his days shopping, unwrapping swag, promoting the aforementioned swag, taking pictures of Kim, and of course, eating. Cheban's social media is an addictive study in the minutia of daily life, specifically the leisurely days of a...
Well, that's the problem. He's not a celebrity; he's celebrity adjacent. He's not a businessman; he's a former PR consultant. The guy doesn't have much going for him, so it's no wonder that he's recently taken to calling himself the "foodgōd."
But that's the origin story, the Old Testament if you will. The real story begins with a tweet sent at 10:13 p.m. on September 17th.
As an assignment for a journalism class, I have been tweeting twice daily about reality TV. Though somewhat tedious, this activity hadn't gotten me into any real trouble. That was about to change. For my final tweet of the day, I settled on this article from the popular blog "dlisted." Accompanying the link, I tweeted a simple message: @JonathanCheban needs to be stopped. Finished with my assignment, I put away my computer and settled down to watch a movie with friends. How could I have known that judgement day was upon me?
At 11:50 my phone lit up with a notification from Twitter. My jaw immediately dropped.
I had been so thoughtless in my tweeting. I had never imagined that, across the country, a vengeful gōd was watching. And he wasn't finished with me yet.
Touché, Jonathan, touché. In my defense, the account had been inactive since 2011, when I had used it exclusively to tweet Justin Bieber. Like the gōdless heathen I am, I decided to share the exciting news with my 46 devoted followers.
It was almost certainly a world record, and my friends responded accordingly. I received congratulatory text and Facebook posts; even my mom declared her pride with a Facebook comment, "So proud of my girl!!"
I thought the foodgōd's crusade of 2016 had ended. How wrong I was.
While I was drifting off to sleep an hour later, my phone buzzed.
Apparently Cheban had decided to check up on my Twitter a little after 1 am. Evidently, he was not happy with what he saw.
Wow, another shot at my 46 followers. The foodgōd can certainly sense weakness.
We had reached a turning point. I could've fallen back. I could've become another anonymous sheep separated from the foodgōd's flock. Instead, I decided to fight back. With the support of my friends, classmates, and many Twitter followers, I began a movement. Like the wayward prophets who came before me, I fought back against the corrupt church.
I asked everyone to show their support by tweeting #IStandWithEmilyWard.
And the foodgōd let his displeasure be known. One by one, my friends started getting blocked from Cheban's account.
The foodgōd may think that he has silenced us, but this holy war has just begun. We have started a revolution that I will continue to fight until justice is done.
Cheban has since deleted his tweets to me, but we will not let him go quietly into the night. Even gōds must be held accountable for their actions. We're coming for you, Jōn, and our vengeance can't be blocked.
#IStandWithEmilyWard
P.S. I now have 84 followers so the joke's on you, Cheban.