Operation: RESCUE THIS

Facebook... what an embarrassing engagement. It's like Homer Simpson exclaiming, "Don't Look At Me!" and his peanut tray flies into the air, and a single nut lands on his Pan Am issue ascot as his kids realize he isn't a pilot at all.. he's a male flight attendant.

Over the past few months since I joined Facebook, I have courted something like 400 friends, and every few weeks I get rid of a large percentage of them. I currently have something like 150. I am constantly looking for friends to lose.

A considerable chunk of the friends I have or have had on facebook were from highschool or junior high. Mostly I friended them out of curiosity, some I friended because I really liked them and looked forward to catching up, and some I accepted friendships from because I honestly couldn't remember if I liked them or not... and was just bored.

A thousand picture views and a handful of weak and brief correspondences later, the experiment is proving some solid shit. I was never that close to most of them. I was never that close to 400 people.. what a surprise. What does surprise me, is the handful of people that I remember as being very special to me who seem SO different to me now.

They live one street over from their parents. They have the same amount of children as their parents. They have no sense of humor that they care to share publicly. They haven't done anything even remotely exciting save for their crazy trip to the Grand Canyon where they spent wads on trinkets in the gift shop or when they took pictures of their heads inside the plywood barrel at the lip of Niagra Falls. ( I made that one up. I am not incriminating anyone there.) I once posted a status update asking someone to explain the appeal of dressing your children in matching outfits to me. SILENCE.. which might have stung, except for the fact that most of these old friends give me silence across the board. The only answer that actually made sense to me, was when a friend said the parent wore the same shirt as the child when they went somewhere with large crowds to help identify each other...

I didn't realize there were large crowds at Olan Mills.. the family portrait studio.

Whatever, you know? What the hell ever.

I am not suggesting that to be my friend you have to have a heroin needle sticking out of your arm, or a legendary laundry list of exciting failures, or an arsenal of Pulitzer successes.. You can be boring. You can be average. You can also be a lunatic stuck in front of the mirror.. You can think McCain eats pussy and cleans his gun better than any man on Earth. You can want to shoot an abortion doctor because you were stuck in line FOR GASOLINE behind some Uber hippy pseudo punk dissident who thinks that God is dead... while you have to suffer through Sunday service after Sunday service because your mom and dad bore you into it, and you don't have the desire or the guts to bore your way out of it... Fine.. Who cares? I see you everywhere.. I am BEHIND YOU as you pump gas, and God is most certainly dead. If myth could only die.

But for the love of your god... and for the sake of your precious politics...

Loosen the fuck up. Taking you in is like breathing in Ricotta Salata cheese.

I know your family is as fucked up as the rest of ours. I know more than you think I know, but at least I appear to have a heart, and think that the crazy fucking struggles we face in life are far more worthy of MY respect than envying the fact that you have a flat footed hold on one of the most insipid and lackluster dreams on the PLANET. Congratulations. Stick this one in your chest.

Welcome to stability and prestige.
Eat my Delete.