You may have thought that the devastating spate of suicides in this country, many of which were related to cyberbullying, might have made us rethink how we treat people.
Well, think again.
Because if the now famous posh teen ranting video is anything to go by, then people are just as cruel and vicious as ever.
The video features a 16-year-old girl, apparently locked, having a row with two blokes in a Dublin fast-food outlet where she boasts about her father's job and salary.
Rude? Obnoxious? Spoiled?
Sure – all the above. But she's 16, displaying all of those traits goes with the territory, does it not?
The video has since gone viral on numerous sharing sites and the results aren't pretty.
More anonymous cowards making threats against a 16-year-old-kid they have never met and who will probably be grounded until she's 40.
You know those newspaper features that ask celebrities: "What would you tell your 16-year-old self?"
Well, I think we all know what that kid's answer would be . . .
Big mouth strikes again . . .
Pompous, arrogant and the head of an utterly discredited organisation ( Qatar? Really?) Blatter added insult to injury with his condescending attitude towards our exit at the hand of Henry – not that the FAI covered themselves in glory either.
And he has always seemed either baffled or just uninterested in the issue of racism in football, telling players that they should just shake hands at the end of the game and forget about it.
If such a shocking incident should happen again, he warned, the team that walks off would forfeit the match.
So, would you ask a black guy to go into work and spend his day at his desk having people calling him racially charged names and throwing bananas at him?
Because that's what black footballers have to put up with on the pitch.
You don't know what you got 'til it's gone
We took the tree down on Sunday. And it sucked.
This was always my least favourite day of the year and I had forgotten how depressing it can be.
As I sat on the couch in a funk I was watching Mrs iSpy struggle on the step ladder to get the star off the top of the tree, I explained to her that it brought me back to my school days, whereas now I have to go back to work but it has the same feeling.
She then muttered something that sounded like: "At least you did your homework in school."
I am guessing that was a crack at my lack of research in my journalistic endeavours.
But frankly I couldn't be bothered checking if that was what she had said or not.
An angel on my shoulder?
I got the first bank statement of the year. Yikes.
In fact, when I opened it up it was a bit like one of those letters in Harry Potter that just scream at you.
As I pottered around the kitchen listening to the radio, I heard one of those mad old birds who believes in angels (I didn't catch her name, so maybe the missus has a point on the whole research thingy).
2013 is going to be a great year, the angels have informed her.
In fact, we all have an angel on our shoulder who will help us with our finances in the next 12 months. By that, I presume she just meant we should all go out and buy more books about angels.
But she did give me a capital idea.
So, all you financially astute angels out there – I have captured my guardian angel and tied him up in a shoe box under my bed.
And unless I get a hundred grand in unmarked bills by the end of the week, you will see your friend again – wing by tiny little wing.
You have been warned.
Right, I have an idea
I have to say, I have a certain grudging respect for Vladimir Putin and his ongoing efforts to utterly piss off the West at every available opportunity. In fact, he's like a geo-political Michael O'Leary.
And his latest jape is a cracker.
The reliably bonkers Gérard Depardieu has already accepted a passport, although I'm not entirely sure he's actually aware of that fact while sex bomb turned animal rights extremist Brigitte Bardot (pictured) is tipped to follow suit.
So, a formerly socialist country which has a rather lax attitude towards tax and doesn't think that rich people should pay more than others?
Sounds like the perfect place for Mick Wallace, no?