Friday, March 4, 2011


Ok, so I don't really know where to start with the shit show that is facebook.  Let's get one thing straight, in the interest of full disclosure, identifying and overcoming biases, and all that-I'm straight up stone age.  I literally felt like Link from 'Encino Man', just marveling at the simplest technologies.  For instance, the way it all started was with a guy who I thought was my friend and we were totally honest with each other, duping me into joining over a game of Scrabbs.  "Oh ya bro, we can play all the time on facebook," and "your blog is awesome bro, if you want anyone to read your genius rantings, you gotta get on face book.  Totally."  I asked, quite pointedly, "will we be playing scrabbs in like two minutes?"  He was evasive.  He finally came around with "yes".  Boom.  Done.  This fool was requesting friends for me like it was going out of style.  I felt like a superstitious gypsy, looking under the bed for spies and muses or gnomes or something that was giving him this remote power.  He's sending me stuff and I don't even know where to look.  I'm irrationally shy about writing anything cause I don't know where it's going.  My man Deej said the FBI was on to me and I rushed to the window to look out the blinds.  Mayhem!

So, today was just a tsunami, only I was riding it on a box of cheerios, not a mercury board.  And before we go any further, what about this?
John Pollard-IDK, could be?
I mean, is this the guy I went to elementary school with?  Is there anyway to know?  More importantly, can he track what I'm up to and kill me in my sleep?  Can I get over the looking under the bed thing, or is that gonna be a fixture in my life?  These are the questions.

I'm just gonna say that the facebook deal felt like a government experiment in which people were magically infused (or medicinally, whatever) with Tiger blood with the recessive ADD trait, and then pumped full of ADD exacerbating meds.  The only thing I can liken it to is Beer Can Beach in Chico, when the Girls Gone Wild chopper was hovering overhead.  And everyone was just too nuts to really convey any thoughts, only react to stimuli.  Like animals.  It seemed that everyone was talking as fast as they could type, and rarely responding appropriately to any queries of greater import than "what's up?"

Somehow, I have like 150 friends after a few hours of facebooking.  Just people coming out of the woodworks.  I'm not gonna lie, that guy above has me sweating bullets right now.  This post would have been up five hours ago if it weren't for the tennis match like parrying my alter-egos were engaged in, "He lives far away"-"He looks crazy"-"You're an adult man"-"He looks crazy"-"Why would he care?"-"He seems imbalanced" and on and on it went.  Basically, it's the fact that anyone who knew John Pollard, and sees that pic and considers for even a fraction of a second that that might be him will die of laughter that won out.

I think Denzel Washington requested me to add him as a friend today.

Now that that's out of the way, the total experience was actually pretty good.  However, either I'm the only honest person on facebook, which would make sense since I'm not up on the norms and mores of facebook etiquette, or I'm the only one who's act isn't together.  Which doesn't bother me.  I saw more pictures of my friend's beautiful families and children than I could shake a stick at.  And I mean that.  To all of you who have pictures of your families on there, I literally didn't see one that I won't strive to have when I do get a family together.  And I commend you all.

Quick rundown, we had Miranda Vera, Elizabeth Donner or some such shit, uh Joe Gocke, Anton O., so he's still kickin, Lauren Cusick, Tom Geneste-who like Charlie Sheen is flies F-18s- and that's effing sweet, (note to self, find Monroe and ask Deej his last name, and David Swanger), Scott Esposto, who looked so guidoed and creeped out it was laughable, I tried to find that blonde haired freak Jeremy... Alfsen?, and Shagon Brown-"that's cold!", but I did find Israel Mcgee, cousin to Willie Mcgee and Terrence Mcgee of the Bengals circa 91, Eireanne Laskey, or tomatoes as Jahsh and I used to say, I may or may not have found John Pollard, Barkham Ballard, who as it turns out represented OP in hometown, and I followed suit, uh, Jessica Mathies- with a freakin crew cut- but she's still beautiful, Megan J., who I identified by a picture of her daughter having the same buffed face that she had in elementary school, and i even gave a cursory look see for Richard Adams, Al Roundtree, and Adam Armstrong.  FYI, apparently Al Roundtree is a culturally biased name, toward the Afro-centric end of the spectrum.  Ironic, since Al was a freaking cracker of the crackerest order.  Cest la vie.  I don't even know what that means.  There's more, but come on.

Even though I was overwhelmed by the whiz-bang-doohickery of the social network, I'm glad I went.  I think.  Definitely glad to have dug up some old friends.  And I heeded the sage advice of a girl, who is in no way an ex, to stay away from the exes.  Except for the instances in which it was unavoidable, or I was mildly curious, I adhered to this advice.  And it's funny.  I praise all of you for having beautiful children, but couldn't suppress my laughter in the instances of mothering exes.  We can just chalk that up to immaturity.  Doesn't bother me.

Note-The gratuitous use of the phrase, "It doesn't bother me" was solely for the enjoyment of Pete, my most steadfast reader.  So Pete, you gotta chime in on that.

Double note-I tried to find Edmond To.  Without elaborating, I challenge anyone to sift through the Edmond Tos and convince me they aren't all the same person.  Interests-computers.  Friends-similar sounding chinese names.  The only deviation was apparently one of the Ed Tos is pals with the great Clarence Carter.  Trust me when I tell you...They were strokin.
Quick question.  Was I the only one watching the video jukebox on channel 23 the one time this song came on?  And if so, am I the only one that knew the lyrics?  If you got all the way through this travesty of a blog post, but didn't watch at least the beginning of Strokin, then you're buying high and selling low.

Triple note-And this is it, I promise.  If we're gonna find the Mark Louie's of the world, it's gonna take some teamwork.  Like two sets of eyes and maybe an FBI sketch artist.  I'm just saying.
Is this Mark Louie?  Am I the only one who cares about whether or not we find Mark Louie?  that's gotta be him, right?  Ya, don't be so sure of yourself till you get a look at the other eight Mark Louies. 


Peter Anderson said...

even though you implied that i betrayed you and somehow pulled some chicanery to get you aboard the ss facebook, it doesnt bother me.

i too was once a deer in headlights. the shock and awe, and ultimately, the novelty all wear off. look forward to being over it in about a week.

Cwatts said...

Betrayal might be too strong, cause we both know I respect trickery.

David Fernandes Jr. said...

Duped in the most respectful way. Pete did you the biggest and least favor ever. Biggest because all anyone is going to see on their wall anymore is your ploys to read your blog. least because you will now never leave the house.

Cwatts said...

I will dupe, and super dupe. Sorry if I want fools to get weak with me. You're the one who showed me, master, about the reader punk.