A Facefull

What do you think of the new digs?

I’m still not ready to call this a new blog or anything, but I am willing to say I’ve rearranged the room a bit.

Look around, you’re looking at what Blogger calls the “Dynamic” look.  Why? Cuz I’m feeling dynamic. Dynamic is Greek for, “It’s gonna look cool cuz you really can’t personalize it.” I’m married.  I know what that’s all about.

“What do you think of the den?”

“I uhm…love it the way it is?”

“Yes you do.”

I’m ok with that. How personal do I need to be? This is a blog, not a diary.  If I wanted a diary I’d write a Facebook page.

“Dear Facebook, Today I did laundry, posted pictures of my sister’s naked Zumba class, and made Facebook logos out of compost.”

Facebook amazes me. Facebook is hordes screaming hunt-n-peckers stabbing, “look at me!” into their keyboards simultaniously, but they’re too busy screaming to look at anyone else.

“Like if you agree.”

“Like if you see me.”

“Like if…aw, screw it, I’ll like you instead. It’s faster.”

I want the “Retype if you really understand a thing about me” button. Then again, that’s social media.  It’s so antisocial it’s cool. Facebook is Mark Zuckerberg’s new clothes.  You want to snub him but he’s the one running to the bank while we bleat “originality!” by reposting cutest kitten pictures somebody else recreated.

“Pay no attention to the man behind the big F, you.”

Mark’s brilliant. Not because he’s some computer nerd making a Google worth of greenbacks; that just makes him another statistical poster boy for the 2000s.  No Mark’s brilliant because he found a way to make money off of the world’s favorite past time: people admiring themselves.

Mark makes money because we post our opinion about everything, and keep clicking refresh until people finally agree with us. I’m sure Marie Antoinette would have loved a Facebook account.

“It appears nobody likes cake, but the Guillotine is getting thousands of hits.”

Don’t get me wrong.  In the time I wrote this post, I checked my FB page several times for likes to my latest post.

See if I like you either.

When I was growing up, the big thing was self-affirmation and self-visualization.  Now we’ve traded our selfs for Facebook mass-affirmation and mass-visualization: If Facebook can see me do it, then I can do it.

And what is our latest favorite thing to Facebook do? It’s Cyberbullying.  We’re all “I hate bullies” until the lights are off and the blue white FB glow finds us home alone. Then we’re picking on some teenager in Tarzana named Daryl because he posted a sponge bob picture. 

That’s right Daryl.  That was me.  I hate Sponge Bob.

 "No, Patrick. They’re laughing next to us."

Sponge Bob and bullying are the biggest things on Facebook. Maybe that’s why we get so many “washing dishes” posts: they’re safe and boring.  And don’t even get me started on the dirty laundry.

Ok.  I’ll start the dirty laundry.

We all have it. We used to call it “skeletons in the closet,” but at some point the skeletons turned into smelly laundry stacks needing aired, falling out into the hallway (presumably about the same time the gay people opened the closet door. Now I have no problem with gay people coming out, but the least they could have done is kick the stinky stack pile back in behind them and close the door, like any reasonable uptight repressed person would do.). Once the laundry is in the hall, we all feel the need to hang it on line for all Facebook to see.  Yes Tandy, we know your mother was a stripper and your father was an alcoholic, but that’s why some of us had great fun at their parties. Now, you’re trying to turn this into some uncivil war and split families over blue and grey panties. Keep them in your pants. The rest of us don’t want to see them.

So what’s it all mean?  Just like everything else on Facebook, it means nothing. It means I’m rearranging and the dancing dust bunnies came out. So come back and read some more of my dirty laundry on my next post.

Oh, and don’t forget to like me.