Kissyfacebook Revisited & Some New Ideas

    I've never before had the problem of people taking me too seriously.  Now, I think, that may be exactly the case.  There may be people in Cyberland who believe I am the Grinch in disguise; an anti-young-love, non-emotional Vulcan who likes to throw cold water on the flames of love.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I find young love, endearing comments and adoring doe-eye looks refreshing.  I see these as signs that our younger generation is fighting off the increasing pressure to reduce relationships to convenient partnerships.
    I believe this misunderstanding comes partially from the failure to appreciate my brand of humor. I have a natural ability to spot chinks in other people's armor and a very hard-to-control desire to take shots at those chinks.  And, to be truthful, as long as I continue to get laughs I'll continue to take the shots.  I do believe my sense of propriety has improved with age, though.  I often choke down some pretty funny stuff before it gets a chance to exit my mouth because I  have sensed a vulnerability I know I should respect.  But I also know I sometimes misjudge situations.  Humor is a difficult skill, and written humor is even more difficult due to the lack of inflection, emphases, facial expression, volume and other subtleties of body language.
    The other contributing factor to a possible misunderstanding is the chance that people have overlooked the "future" aspect of the article.  I haven't yet encountered any communication that has made me blush, wish I hadn't read it or otherwise made me feel so uncomfortable that I stopped reading it.  I was letting my imagination make a trip into one possible future.
    I have other ideas about how this social networking phenomenon could evolve.  For instance, what if all comments had to be filtered through generational and parental filters, or even translators?  New, yet-to-be-invented DNA testing instruments would be required before any comments could be posted, and parents' and grandparents' comments would be evaluated by a special program and tweaked so as not to cause any embarrassment to the young person to whose wall the comment was being posted.  It would look something like this:  Young woman posts: "Great time at the beach yesterday!"  Father comments: "Hey, Snookles, I remember the first time we took you to the beach.  You ripped off your bathing suit and ran naked up and down the shoreline.  I've attached a photo."  What actually gets posted: "Glad for you" (no photo). 
    Another possible change would be aimed at keeping old folks, who I like to refer to as wobblies, from making comments about things about which they know absolutely nothing.  I don't know if the DNA testing would work for this or if something else would have to be invented to detect old genes, white hair and out-of-touch social awareness.  I envision this conversation: Young man posts: "Beach yestr w/BGF. alt 6y girls. 1 w/BOBFOC near us. deets l8r. psos."  Old guy comments: "Glad you had a good time at the beach with your big green floaties.  Good idea to have brought along those alternate girls.  I'm glad to hear Bob was there.  He needs a little sun.  Were there mosquitoes out?  You have to be careful not to use too much of that Deet 18 rated stuff.  Glad it was positive for you."  What actually gets posted: OFN0 (Old fart knows nothing).
    Maybe everyone over 60 could be kept completely off fb by providing an alternative like Kissyfacebook.  This one would be Wrinklefacebook.  As with kfb, a whole new line of products could be developed for marketing: huge keyboards like those old-guy TV remotes, slower internet connections so they don't get too confused and automatic photo enhancers that make them look 20 years younger in their profile pictures (so they don't have to use a photo that is 20 years old with telltale hair styles and ancient clothing).
    Remember, I came up with this idea first. I expect royalties when Facebook launches this.  I saw Social Network.

A Suggestion for the Future of FB

                Remember when Facebook was a sea of mundane trivia suggesting a population with such narrow world views that they believed everyone would be intensely interested in information like, "I'm eating a bowl of oatmeal" or "I think I'll brush my teeth"?  Slowly we began seeing those banalities replaced by thoughts and questions;  "I just noticed that my pinky toes are longer than the ones next to them." or "I'm wondering how to heat up some soup when my microwave is broken?"  Then we began getting invitations to take surveys and join groups and causes and to be friends with people we haven't seen (some for good reasons) for the past forty years.  And how could we leave out the advent of that plethora of Facebook games?  How many times do I have to turn down invitations to become a mobster or farmer? 

                I have noticed that my involvement level with Facebook has evolved alongside the site itself.  When I first signed up I was so unimpressed that I only logged in about once a month.  I now find myself checking in at least once or twice a week.   When I came to this realization I was frightened.  What had happened to me?  Had I slowly succumbed to some form of cyber brainwashing?  I took a hard, analytical look and discovered the content on Facebook had evolved to a level of some interest.  People are interacting with one another.  They are posting some deep thoughts.  True, some are only relatively deep, but they often provoke others to question and ponder.  There is something else happening: fun!  People are joking with one another without getting obscene or angry.

                 But there's also a direction to some conversations that has me a little concerned, so I have a suggestion for the future of Facebook.  I have noticed that some comments have evolved so far from the mundane oatmeal-like comments that perhaps an entirely new, or parallel, Facebook page would be helpful.  While I found those comments about teeth brushing and toe observance so incredibly boring as to evoke a feeling of hopelessness for the human race, some of the digital conversations I observe today leave me feeling a little like a peeping Tom.  I, and who knows how many others, are unsuspecting readers of some very personal conversations; conversations that I don't believe would be voiced in my physical presence.  Ah, the freedom of impersonal modes of communication!  But, oh, the unintended consequences of laying it all out there for everyone and anyone to see.

                So, here is my suggestion.  The Facebook powers (still Zuckerberg?) should launch a parallel site called Kissyfacebook.  Anyone who wants to digitally lavish Mister or Miss or Missus Wonderful with mush would click on the Kissyfacebook icon (I'm envisioning two face profiles in the shape of hearts with lips gently touching)  and let their keyboards drip with honey.  They should pour perfume and cologne all over those l, o, v and e keys and feel them heat up as they type.  They could purchase extra x and o keys to keep on hand for replacement duty when the others wear out.  An entire line of lovesick keyboard and monitor products could be marketed for the Kissyfacebook members; cleanser to get the lip gloss off the touch screen, mini fire extinguishers for overwrought keyboards, "hot" keys that will allow the use of endearing names and phrases with just the push of one or two keys, and how about a "smoke alarm" on the Kissyfacebook page that automatically rates the interaction to warn off those who might be embarrassed by entering in?   One little wisp of smoke = This is cute!  Two little wisp icons = Whoa, this is serious!  Three wisps = Someone's blushing.   Four wisps = Hands check!  Five wisps = Get a room!!

                Remember, you read it here first.  I expect royalties when this thing catches on.  I saw Social Network.

What Did You Do Today?

     "Hey.  How ya doin'?"

     "Doin' great.  You?"

    "Couldn't be better."

     "So, what'd you do today?"

     "Oh, nothin' much.  Raked the leaves.  Put up the tree.  Fixed a dining room chair.  What'd you do?"

     "I killed a couple of goats, field dressed them and took their carcasses to the butcher."

     Yup.  That was my day.  My son and daughter-in-law raised a couple of goats for the purpose of eating.  I volunteered to do the killing.  However, because I felt like I wasn't knowledgeable enough to do the gutting and skinning on my own, I solicited the help of a friend.  He has field dressed and butchered many deer, and had allowed me to participate in a couple of instances.  He had never dressed out a goat, but we figured it isn't much different than a small deer.

     Why, you may be asking me as you sit in front of your monitor where I cannot hear you, would you want to kill goats when you could have hired the butcher to take care of the whole process for you?  It was all about recognizing and stepping into our place in the food chain.  Michael Pollan, in his book The Omnivore's Dilemma, explains it this way in a section about taking up hunting, "For one of the things I was hoping to accomplish by rejoining, however briefly, this shortest and oldest of food chains was to take some more direct, conscious responsibility for the killing of the animals I eat.  Otherwise, I felt, I really shouldn't be eating them."  It was also about bestowing the dignity upon those animals that they deserved.  They were God's gift to the family and deserved better than the wholesale, dishonorable and degrading slaughter the vast numbers of domesticated animals receive in corporate slaughterhouses at the hands of uncaring death mechanics.  How dishonest are we when we deliberately force ourselves to believe that those cellophane-wrapped cuts of beef, pork and chicken were placed in those display cases by loving hands and refuse to even think about the fact that lives were taken, blood was spilt and guts were removed so we might enjoy sterile meals on white tablecloths?

      As I indicated earlier, I was apprehensive about remembering all the steps involved in field dressing this kind of animal.  It turned out that my friend was apprehensive about the first step; the killing of the animals.  He had hunted and killed deer, rabbits, coyotes and an assortment of other game many times, but he had never simply walked up to an animal on a rope and killed it.  It turned out we complemented each other.  I had no problem pulling the trigger on my new Ruger .22 Mark III pistol.  I had deliberately not become "friends" with those goats.  When I was over there, I saw them, but never called them by any names or petted them.  I knew the day would come when they would be the main course on a dinner table, so I purposefully looked at them as meals on hooves.  In my opinion, farm animals of this kind should never be named, played with or spoken to like they are extended family members.  They are part of the food chain and will someday have to take their assigned place in that chain.  It is not fair to expect someone else to do that final deed because I chose to befriend an animal.

     The actual killing was simple enough.  A rope around the neck to keep her head still.  The barrel up against the skull to ensure a clean shot.  A brief prayer of thanks.  Pull the trigger.  Each of us there individually valued that goat.  All effort was made to ensure a quick and painless death.  A brief feeling of sorrow was followed by gratitude for the gift of life given by way of that animal's death.  Then came the removal of all the parts that we didn't want to eat, including the hide.  I am still on the learning curve in this area.  When we were done we had accomplished what Michael Pollan described as his ultimate destination, "…to look as far into the food chains that support us as I could look, and recover the fundamental biological realities that the complexities of modern industrialized eating keep from our view."  At that moment we knew, by experience rather than meaningless head knowledge, that there is an order to nature and that we are a part of it.  We, as an integral part of that food chain we so glibly reference in discussions, are dependent upon plants and creatures to provide sustenance.  And we must take responsibility for the act of eating.

     So, what did you do today?

The End of a Road Trip

              When I was in my 20s I used to drive from Southern California to Denver in about 19 hours, stopping only for gas and fast food.  Now that I am officially in my 60s I don't do that sort of thing anymore.  I need to stop and stretch my legs, unkink my back and take short naps.  I usually opt for an overnight sleep as well.  But, I turned 60 a few weeks ago and I guess deep down I think I have something to prove.  So, I just arrived home yesterday morning after driving from Denver  in exactly 24 hours.  I could have come in sooner had a storm in the Rockies not forced me to take the longer, southern route.

                I was amazing!  I became obsessed with average miles-per-hour, forcing myself to stay behind the wheel for long stretches and combining all necessary interruptions (gas, food, restroom) into one quick stop.  It was as though a NASCAR competitor pulled into the pit.  Gas was pumped.  The restroom was utilized.  Food was purchased.  The driver was back on the track in record time.  MPH averages drop dramatically every time a minute is wasted in the pit, so everything had to be accomplished at a fevered pace.  At one point I was averaging just under 70 MPH.  That's not bad considering the speed limit was generally 75 MPH.   But then I had to admit a need for an extended rest of 20 minutes when I stepped out of my truck just west of Flagstaff and wasn't sure if those were legs or pant legs full of Jell-o underneath me.  Then, just a few miles south of Fresno I was suddenly and unexpectedly overcome with a strong desire to close my eyes.  This is a condition that gets my full attention.  I know better than to try such useless actions as opening the window and letting the 30 degree air hit me in the face, or expecting 12 ounces of coffee to somehow overcome 20 hours of sleep deprivation.   I regularly drink coffee within hours of going to bed and I don't have any trouble sleeping.  So, I pulled into a truck stop and slept for 45 minutes.  That did the trick and I was home and sleeping in my own bed just a couple of hours later.  In the end, I only managed to average about 60 MPH.  I've heard of people aiming to "shoot their age" in golf.  I guess I just "MPHed my age" driving.

                Those of you who read my earlier entry in which I expressed my angst  about the moment of reunification with my wife have surely been speed reading through this post to get to the part where I describe that sublime moment.  Well, I will have to admit that I was uncharacteristically excited during the interminable wait for her to get through the line at customs.  When she finally walked through the sliding glass door pulling her immense suitcase I quickly found myself right there with her, so she didn't have to do any slow-motion running across the lobby.  I would say our moment was neither exceedingly jubilant nor boringly complacent.  We did manage to obstruct others trying to pass through the doorway.  It was a good feeling to have the woman I have shared my life with for almost 39 years in my arms once again.  I believe I could describe it as subdued exultant contentment, and a moment that felt a little like that NASCAR pit stop routine; too hurried by the needs of the moment, but a winning moment just the same.

                I wish I could have gotten a picture of it, but it just wasn't a safe option: Holy Moses Wash.  This is a low area that conveys water during storms.  I spotted the sign in the dark while zipping along at 79 MPH  just west of Kingman, Arizona, which is west of Rattlesnake Wash.  It makes me wonder what incident inspired the name.