Autocorrect Nightmares: Uncle Bobby Debunks Your Texting Woes & Weaponizes Chaos
Dear Uncle Bobby, Why does autocorrect always change the words I meant to type, but somehow never catches the obvious typos? It feels like it's trying to embarrass me on purpose. Is there some setting I need to fix, or is this just how it is now?
Cackling at Your Conundrum,,
Corrected Into Madness
Ah, Corrected, bless your poor, digitally sabotaged heart. You’re out here thinking autocorrect is a helpful feature. No, sugar—autocorrect is a spiteful little goblin living in your phone. It doesn’t want to assist you. It wants to ruin your credibility one sentence at a time. It never fixes the real mistakes. You can type “I’ll meet you there at free” and it just nods like, “Perfect. Send it.” But heaven forbid you try to type something normal like “ducking” or “well”… and suddenly you’re cussing out your pastor and accidentally texting your mom about “damp cheese elbows.” Autocorrect doesn’t just miss typos—it actively creates them. It sees what you’re trying to say and says, “Nah, I think I’ll embarrass you instead.” Try typing “I’m running late.” Autocorrect turns it into: “I’m ruining lathe.” Great. Now you’ve confused your boss and possibly declared war on woodworking. And don’t even try using slang or proper nouns. You’ll spend 20 minutes arguing with your phone like it’s a drunk friend trying to order at a drive-thru. “Yes, I meant Tallahassee, not tall ham sweaty.” The worst part? It learns your mistakes. You mess up one time—just once—and now it’s committed that to memory like it’s your new signature phrase. Forever. You misspell “definitely” as “definately” in 2008, and now it’s in your phone’s will. So what’s Uncle Bobby’s advice? Give in. Let autocorrect take the wheel. Embrace the chaos. Start texting like a fortune cookie having a breakdown. People won’t know if you’re deep, unstable, or just profoundly poetic. “Lunch cow at noon. Bring fate.” If anyone questions you, just say, “Sorry, autocorrect,” and walk away. No one can argue with it. It’s the universal scapegoat of the 21st century. Good luck, and may your “I’m on my way” not become “I’m into mayo.”
— Uncle Bobby