Tag Archives: Facebook

Knowing You…Sooner Than You Realize!

If you want to know for certain that someone’s response to your Facebook friend request is sincere, just reply: ‘Great! Coming over this evening! Already have yr address. Bringing nachos, wine coolers, Hydrocodone & baby oil. Can’t wait! See u tonight!’

Don’t doubt me on this one! It’s saved me from countless fake friendships and wasting too much time preparing nachos for the lactose-intolerant!

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Filed under Wolf Tales

Face Butt

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This past Wednesday, May 1, Facebook scolded me.  They issued a dire warning that – I guess – was supposed to frighten me and make me reconsider my entire purpose in life and how I fit into this complicated universe.  Apparently, some gentle soul was offended by a post I’d made the day before.  I used the ‘f’ word in response to the story of Jason Collins, the Washington Wizards player who came out and admitted he’s gay.  Here’s part of what I originally wrote:

‘God forbid some pro athlete should come out of the closet and admit he’s queer!  I mean, it’s okay to have wife beaters (or baby mama beaters) and drug addicts in the locker room, but fags just won’t be permitted.’

When I logged onto Facebook Thursday morning, I received a message telling me the post had been removed because of the “offensive language.”  It also referred me to their “Terms of Service,” which warned about “hate speech” and other admonitions.   Keep in mind this is the same web site with groups called ‘Fucktards Need Not Apply’ and ‘Shit That Makes Me Laugh.’  In fact, I’ve seen the words ‘fucktard’ and ‘shit’ in comments all over the site, along with other equally colorful terms.

I don’t know who got upset enough to report me to Mark Zuckerberg.  They were allowed to remain hidden behind their computer, while Facebook’s treacherous Word Police invaded my profile overnight and hurriedly stripped away the horrid verbiage.  Finally, with the hateful terminology safely obliterated, the pack of Silicon Valley 20-somethings dispatched their carefully-worded ‘Don’t You Dare’ message.  For that one terrifying moment, it took my breath away.  Then, I realized I just had gas.

This whole fiasco reminds me of the time in February 2008 when I posted a message on AOL in response to a comment someone had made.  They had a story about how Christopher Columbus tricked the indigenous Taino people of Jamaica in 1504 by telling them that, if they didn’t provide him and his crew with food, he’d make the sun disappear on February 29.  He knew that a lunar eclipse was imminent on that day.  The Taino didn’t believe him – until the eclipse occurred.  Then, they were terrified and bowed to his commands.  If Columbus had been somewhere on the mainland, say in the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, or the Inca capital of Machu Picchu, they’d probably laugh and skewer his Italian ass.  Remember, the Aztecs and the Incas charted the stars with amazing accuracy, as did many other Native Americans societies.  Columbus simply lucked out that he was in the midst of people who were slightly less educated.  As I perused the comments in response to the brief editorial, I noticed some idiot had posted something like, ‘No one has suffered like the Jewish people.’  First of all, Jews had nothing to do with the story.  Second, it always pisses me off whenever some Jews think they’ve suffered more than the indigenous peoples of the Americas.  So I replied, saying something like, ‘Pardon my extreme political incorrectness, but Jews haven’t suffered one bit anywhere in the Western Hemisphere in comparison to the Indians and the Negroes.’  I went on to use the word – brace yourself – ‘bullshit.’  I think I even threw ‘fuck’ into the mix just because it was the kosher thing to do.  Then, at some point, someone got their feelings hurt and complained to AOL who then wreaked revenge by removing my capacity to make comments for a week.  Oh, God!  I was devastated!  I had to drink half a bottle of wine and masturbate for an hour to get over the trauma.  And, of course, the offended person remained hidden; a troubled spirit in the digital night – never to be seen or heard from again.

Now, this shit with Facebook.

Somewhere along the keyboard, my intentions got lost.  I don’t hate homosexuals.  In fact, some of my best friends are homosexualites.  Hell, I’ve had my own sexual encounters with other men – including myself!  But, my comments centered on the irony – hypocrisy – over the hype surrounding Collins’ announcement.  It’s pathetic to see professional athletes reacting with such vitriol at the thought of a homosexual in their midst.  Consider that pro sports is rife with wife-beaters (or baby mama beaters); infidelity; drug addicts; drunk drivers, etc.  How many times have you heard of professional male athletes going out to bars or strip clubs and getting into fights?  How many of these guys have been tagged for steroid abuse in recent years?  I guess it’s okay for a pro athlete to beat the crap out of his wife or girlfriend, but they obviously draw the line at queers in the shower.  I mean, they have standards, right?

Considering that today is World Press Freedom Day and I’m a strong free speech advocate, I won’t apologize if anyone was offended by a briefly-worded post on Facebook.  I made no threats and didn’t slander anyone.

But, I’m glad to know I pissed off someone.  I learned years ago that trying to please everyone will lead to complete insanity, so annoying somebody enough to feel that have to contact an authority figure gives me the utmost pleasure.  Some folks are so sensitive you’d think they’d just had 3 orgasms in a row!  Believe me – I know from experience.  Either way, life isn’t worth living if you don’t piss off a few people here and there.  At least they know you who you are!  And, that you’re not afraid to speak.

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Filed under Essays

How Do You Miss This?

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By now, you’ve surely heard the story about Manti Te’o, the Notre Dame football player who claims a girl he met on Facebook a while back never existed.  If you’ve been in a coma lately, don’t worry.  You’re not missing anything important.  But, this bizarre tale is rife with the tawdriness that only the reality TV / Internet generation could spawn.  Te’o says that he formed a relationship with a girl named “Lennay Kekua;” a union born in the pantheon of cloudy cyberspace and the hormonally-riddled loins of a lonely college boy.  Oh, Lord!  The humanity of it is already making me light-headed.

The drama unfolded in true Facebook fashion when “Lennay” supposedly endured a horrific car wreck late last summer only to learn she had inoperable leukemia.  Things allegedly took a turn for the worst when she died in September.  But, that wasn’t the only tragedy to strike the Te’o family.  The next day, Te’o’s beloved grandmother also died.  Despite the dual afflictions, Te’o managed to continue playing football successfully through the rest of the season; well enough to end up as a Heisman Trophy finalist.

But, as with most lies and fantasies, the truth eventually emerges – or at least when the drugs wear off.  I don’t know what it was in Te’o’s case, but things in his glass-domed universe began to crumble after the first of the year.  “Lennay Kekua” was a whole lot of nothingness.

Here are two things we now know for certain: first, Te’o’s grandmother did pass away last September; second, Te’o is an idiot.  The latter is based upon the sudden revelation that “Lennay” was the figment of some other clown’s twisted imagination.  There was no girl named “Lennay Kekua” and there was no car wreck, followed by an abrupt onset of leukemia.  This is particularly revolting considering that thousands of people die in this country – and across the globe – every year from both car wrecks and leukemia.  That’s not a lie, and people don’t incur cheap sexual fantasies about either dilemma.  Or, they shouldn’t.

But, this entire convoluted fiasco makes me ask two questions.

  1. How could you be in a relationship with someone you’ve never met?
  2. Who amongst us gives a damn?

A third question: why is the national media harping on this like it’s in an extension of the Benghazi massacre?

This mess would be newsworthy and plausible, for example, if “Lennay Kekua” had been a fan of Manti Te’o and if her family and friends had set up a trust fund for her leukemia-related expenses.  This has happened before.  People have faked illnesses or injuries well enough to have accounts set up; their ruses earning thousands of dollars, scores of gifts and mounds of sympathy.  Then, as always occurs, their lies unravel, and the world crashes down upon their greedy, stupid faces.

But, that’s not the case with Manti Te’o.  I still don’t understand how he didn’t know he was in a “relationship” with a girl he’d never actually met.  Maybe he did meet her – through someone else; through his dreams; through a drunken haze.  Perhaps – as only happens on Facebook – he “friended” her and came to believe he was in some kind of loving bond.  They shared photos and daily motivational greetings, and he thought they something going.

As a child, I often had invisible playmates; but then, so have millions of other people – especially those of us who grew up shy and introverted.  An only child, I even imagined I had a twin brother.  As an adult, I’ve had my share of my fantasy lovers.  I’ve enjoyed thousands of lurid sexual encounters; then I either woke up, or finally had an orgasm.  For the record, I still do partake in such hookups, but they’re more meaningful now.  I’ll write about that later.

I must concede I’ve become enmeshed in the Facebook frenzy.  I have “friends” I’ve never met; people who’ve connected with me for various and sundry reasons.  I actually value my Linked In connections more; that site serves a real purpose.  But, I’d like to find where some of these Facebook “friends” live, so I can test their trustworthiness and show up at their home at one or two in the morning saying my truck broke down.  You know you have really good friends when they give you gas money or help you bury the bodies of former supervisors without too many questions.  But, a romance?

I shouldn’t be surprised.  I started meeting people online almost as soon as I got my first personal computer in 2000.  It helped that I posted nude pictures of myself on the web and said I was a virgin, but again, I’ll tell you all about that later.  Still, I tested the value and honesty of these people by revealing bits of myself with each email exchange or instant chat.  I know a couple in Delaware who even sent me glossy photos of themselves.  I have another long-time acquaintance in Milwaukee.  But, I haven’t just traded emails with these guys; we’ve sent each other birthday and Christmas cards; we’ve talked on the phone.  I’ve haven’t met any of them, but I know they’re real people.  I have another long-time acquaintance in Oakland whom I’ve never met; nor have I talked with him on the phone.  But, I’ve looked him up through “White Pages,” and we have a mutual friend here in Dallas who’s met him.  So, I know he exists.

But, I still don’t understand what’s going on with Manti Te’o.  Notre Dame is investigating the matter – as if it’s a sexual assault case.  Now, Te’o has spoken with Katie Couric (who’s still desperately trying to stay relevant since leaving the Today Show) and conceded lying about “Lennay Kekua.”  Ooooo!  It’s getting deep!  Perhaps we’ll finally get to the bottom of this mystery and learn the sordid truth – as nasty and painful as it may be.  Then, we can move onto less pressing issues, like the ongoing economic crisis and global warming.  I mean, first things first, right?

In the meantime, I have another date with a steamy redheaded chick.  I think her name is Candace, but I’ll figure that out when I reach for the bottle of lube.  And, of course, I’ll tell you all about it.

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Filed under Essays