Sat back this weekend and had a beer (or two) watching the news and regrouping. I call it, “Letting the well fill.” I have ideas flowing in my mind all the time. I’ll start watching YouTube and get on a run of videos that leads just about anywhere. Yesterday’s big push was Facebook addiction. I crappith thee not! There is an actual condition called “Facebook Addiction Disorder!” It has SYMTOMS! No, for real, and I have every one of them. I’m real good at dodging a drunk test, but this caught be a bit unawares.
As you know, I pulled back from Facebook about a week ago because I was putting a huge amount of time into it for virtually no return. Over the weekend I refined my ideas and I’m still going to post on Doc’s page, and a small private group. What I’m notgoing to do is sit on this porch “liking” Cob salads and dogs dancing the cha cha! My original contention was correct. Much ado about nothing. I did find one major flaw, stemming from the videos. They go on and on about once you put something on Facebook it’s there forever! You can’t really delete anything, and millions upon millions of people will see it. LIE!!Ok, lookee here. . . I’m a writer. I WANT millions of people to see my stuff. That’s my complaint! Nada! I could put a picture of myself naked on this porch typing this article and maybe, just maybe I’ll get one “like” from the gay guy around the corner.
But that’s not where the addiction comes from. That is where you check, and recheck your status, likes, news feed, whatEVER, hoping something will break. The only thing that ever happens is when you make an honest comment someone takes offense and you’re off to “Facebook Jail.” While sitting in my cell last week I came to realize that I was just as goofy as those thirteen year old airhead chicks with their pink iPhones and their “BFF.s” My granddaughter, Kylie, is cooler than I am. My other granddaughter, Jordyn, not so much. After three days in solitary I got over the shakes. Facebook reinstated me, but I didn’t go back for my fix. I pulled completely away. I did set up some rules. No more scanning the news feed. Other than my secret group, and you must be invited by an existing member to get there, I don’t comment on squat! You have to have people you really know! I once made a comment to a girl in Arizona that she was still pretty, even though she was pregnant. She was having an issue, thinking she was fat, and I was driving home the point of beautiful motherhood. Well, I’m sixty-four, and she’s twenty-one, and all her friends jumped on me calling me a creepy stalker. I un-friended everybody in Arizona and searched for a way to block anything I ever write from going there. Stalk that!
That brings me to another subject I got into this weekend. If you type in “Facebook danger” you’ll get a virtual instruction manual on how to lure teen-age girls to a city park and pick them up. It’s all in the guise of “saving the children,” but the bottom dollar is that after you watch a couple hundred of these videos you realize that teens are semi-retarded. When I was young the rules were simple; don’t talk to strangers, look both ways when you cross the street and eat all your spinach. Now you have kids who “friend” just about anybody and the first time they get invited to a face to face their only response is, “I have to wait until my parents are asleep.” Kylie would never do that. Jury’s still out on Jordyn. Matter of fact shedid sneak out at least once, but we don’t like to talk about that around here. What I’m trying to say is we, as adults, seriously need to reinforce simple survival rules or the species is not going to make it. The world is changed. When I was seven a rite of passage was to be able to get on a trolley, go downtown, see a movie, and find your way back home. If you tried to teach your kid that nowadays you’d have the CPS case from hell! Like ol’ Willie said in his last song, “It’s all going to pot. . . best I can tell the world’s gone to hell, and we’re sure gonna miss it a lot!” God, I hope Trump makes it.
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