The Fifth One

Okay, this Facebook thing is fascinating. (I know, I'm late to the party, I'm totally uncool. I grew up with relatives that still had outhouses. With that kind of foundation, there are many mountains to climb.) But I have become something of an addict. And I must confess my sins.

First, the sheer drawing power of this beckoning magnet is a little frightening. I find myself racing to the PC at every opportunity, checking to see what anyone might have done anywhere on one of my pages. Mary Lou took the same quiz that I did! OMG! Agnetha posted on my wall about planting recycled trees in Lower Upper Windthrust Park. Hurray! Horst added a deep and meaningful comment to my photo of the flaming dildo. Woohoo! (Note to self: Might want to hide some of your photos in an obscure folder that you can't find easily. And look up Horst's phone number.)

And this available ability to have update notifications sent to your cell phone? I am refusing to think of even going there, at least at this point. I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I wouldn't get anything done. I couldn't even go to the bathroom and focus on the task at hand. Sleep would not be an option. And yet people DO this. Good gawd.

Second, I am a Facebook whore. Freely admit it, can't deny it, no shame in my game. I have sent friend requests to a few people that I don't really remember from my high school, but their name kind of rings a bell, good or bad I'm not sure. I've sent an invite to a couple folks on OTHER friends' lists that I don't know, but I thought their posts were interesting and fun. These are not federal crimes, no one will be water-boarding me now that Obama is in office, but I have transgressed nonetheless.

But I can at least say, in my defense, that I'm not like some of the TRUE whores in the Facebook universe. You have 1264 friends? No you don't. You have 1264 people on your list that accepted you because they had no clue who you were but were being polite in this odd world where, since most users have restrictions set up, you can't really find out anything about the people who sent a request until you ACCEPT the request. Then these people are screwed (see next paragraph). This is how we end up with someone named "Buford Chumphead" in Tinynut, AL having 732 people named "John" on his list. So I'm not the slutty cheerleader. I'm the slutty librarian.

Thirdly, let's talk about the "Uh Oh" factor. This is when you send an invite, they accept, and then you check out their pages only to find that you have opened a hell portal to someone that you would NEVER want to be associated with in real life. They belong to the "Fred Phelps Is Jesus II" group. They have wedding photos that include shotguns and farm animals. They are one of the Obama haters that can't speak intelligently about why they hate him (concerns I would listen to, because I have concerns of my own), they just spew hate that has no basis in reality and is instead based solely on the unavoidable fact that Republicans/Right-Wingers/Un-Christians cannot accept the fact that they lost the race. You didn't win, people. Deal with it. And now it's time to suck it up and support a president that has the unenviable task of rectifying 8 years of criminal, inhumane activity that has devastated this country. Swallow the bitter pill and move on. There are more important things at stake than your pride.

Again with me spiking on the Right-Wingers. It happens. I just do not understand how a person who waves God on his banner can do things that are so ungodly. Do these people not listen to what is spilling out of their mouths and compare it to scripture? To reality? Seriously.

And now back to a happier place.

Finally, the elephant in the room about Facebooking. Accessing Facebook when you've been drinking, and actually making life decisions while doing so. There should at least be a Lifetime movie about this starring Tori Spelling Bertinelli Baxter. This activity can lead to so many bad choices. Making comments on photos that are no longer funny once the alcohol clears your system. Joining obscure groups that result in 37 daily emails about the genocide in Frangonia. (Where the hell IS that country, exactly? What pictures did they post that moved me to action?) Signing up for Causes that don't make sense in the light of day. ("Society for the Preservation of Lip Gloss"? How did this catch my interest?) And the ultimate: Sending Friend Invites to people that you have nothing in common with, just because your addled brain clicked here and clicked there and found a name that you kinda remember from that one summer in Band Camp.

The madness must stop. But I don't know if I have that strength.

"Hi, my name is Brian, and I'm a Face-aholic."

"Hi Brian. Welcome to the group."

"Thank you. Really do appreciate it. Do I smell donuts?"

Peace out.

The Fourth One

So, dear friends, it happened to me just as it happened to so many newbie bloggers across the world. I burst out of the gate, brimming with excitement and determination, completely convinced that I can produce the most stunning blog that mankind has ever seen. I work feverishly at first, and spew out three posts in a burst of venting. Three posts. Then nothing.

Sigh.

The silence drags on for nearly a year, while I pursue other mysterious but mostly dubious activities. Supportive friends try to lure me back, praising the minimal but interesting material they had perused last May. I ignored them. I ignored my duty, my purpose, my obligation to somehow further mankind in some small way with my incisive dissection of world affairs. The shame was heavy, the failblog factor was high.

But I got over it.

Then yesterday, the astonishing prophetess Tiffany walked me through establishing a Twitter account. My interest was piqued. This was fun. I enjoyed it. Communicating with the world was not such a bad thing. My passions rose, my fingers flew on the keyboard. Then last night I set up a Facebook account. Even more wonders unfolded. People enjoyed talking to me, and OMG, I enjoyed talking to THEM. (Truth be told, not really fond of the human race, just sayin.) I was getting live validation, and validation has always been an issue for me what with all that "growing up gay in right-wing Oklahoma business", so my satisfaction percentages rose dramatically. This was SWEET.

Then I remembered the blog. The neglected, shattered-promise blog. Facebook isn't really conducive to full-fledged blogging. You CAN, but not really, not the right setting. And Twitter? Hello? 140 characters max at a time. I can't even clear my literary throat in 140 characters, much less build up to any crescendo of insight. So it became clear. The blog must live again. Tie it all together, let people click around for the full picture, try to satisfy all. Because we do need satisfaction, in this age of heartless people doing hurtful things to people who are simply trying to get by, and maybe have a nice meal along the way.

So I raise the torch again. Come with me. Let's storm the castle, make it ours, return to the day when basic human kindness was the foundation of all that is good. Why NOT strive for that? I will never understand why some people, especially the right-wing, supposedly Christian, rabid and vengeful hatemongers will stop at nothing to tear other people apart just because someone wants to live their life as their heart and mind says they should.

Got a little deep there. Happens sometimes. But join me anyway. At the very least, you might get a good pic out of it that you can post on Facebook. And then Twitter your friends about it.

Peace.