…r years, three months and 13 days, and we’re still feasting upon his gift of collective narcissism. Who can resist gizmos that begin with the letter I? It’s all about me, me, me. All of my thoughts, dreams, memories, all of the scenic skylines and selfies, parties and concerts, dogs and cats and career bragging, all running together into the perpetual newsfeed jizzfest of Me. Is that what you ate yesterday? Awesome! Is that your ugly baby? Like!