The Plunge

WAYNE’S WORDS
Volume 3 Number 21
The Plunge

Well, I have gone and done it again. Already. Friends told me I would be happier if I did it. Life would be less confusing and more enjoyable. Everyone, including my boss, told me “go ahead, Wayne, don’t be afraid.” I really didn’t want to do it. I had done it a few years ago and it had started out blissful then turned to constant happiness and finally ended in total emptiness. Still, everyone kept telling me that it was great before and that it would be great again. People told me it would be good for me, good for my self-esteem, and good for me to feel apart of something again. I actually swore I would never do it again.

It’s funny how a short passage of time will create an atmosphere where you can be talked into something. So, as time ticked by, my resolve weakened. My constant barks of “Hell No” turned to occasional statements of “Maybe Later.” Indeed, more of the old tick-tock and my words changed to “Ok, soon.” I was close to the edge of doing it again. I was standing on the precipice over looking the abyss ready to make the leap. All my friends were in my head telling me it would be better than the last time. It would be different. I would like it and I would smile every day.

I don’t remember if I was pushed over the edge or if I fell or if I leaped off. Regardless, the end result was the same. I took the plunge.

I joined an online, social website.

Yes, I am finally on Facebook. I had done the MySpace thing (mostly because I had a radio show) and it had just turned stupid and worthless, like things often do. I was told that the newest online community craze was light years beyond MySpace. So, after all of that goading – and after a certain co-worker, who shall remain nameless (Charissa) – went ahead and made a page for me, I joined in on the “party.”

I am actually somewhat frightened by Facebook. It knows WAY too much about you. I think it actually already knew my shoe size before my last name was completely entered. Facebook knows you know people that you actually forgot you knew. “Facebook friend suggestion: Karl Wittick – You both went to Junior High at Rhein Main Air Base in Germany in 1979 and were the only two people to wear cowboy hats to school because you wanted to look different and you used to invite all the pretty girls over for Friday night dances in the basement then play nothing but slow songs so you could press against them and you both played the Baritone in band and caught candy in your instruments when you were playing Octoberfest music on a float in a parade and you used to eat Gummi Bears from the “Trinkhalles” and washed them down with liter bottles of Coca-Cola and there was that one time you two made out with those two German Girls on the playground behind base housing and it didn’t matter if they couldn’t speak English and you two couldn’t speak German even if they were talking bad about you because at least they kept making out with you two. Facebook thinks you may know Karl Wittick. Would you like to add him as a friend?”

People are so afraid of “Big Brother” knowing what is going on in their personal lives, but they are generally proud to splay it out all over the Internet for just about every part of the collective consciousness to see. Remember, part of the assimilated people are parents, children, husbands, wives, grandparents, employers and prospective employers – and they all can look up pictures of you vomiting in a hotel lobby garbage can last Wednesday night (you know, that was the night before you called in sick on Thursday)! They can also read your postings about how you couldn’t remember who he (or she) was, but he (or she) left his (or her) underwear in your kitchen and you think you remember protecting yourself, but you are going to the doctor to take some tests just to be sure. Facebook knows all.

I actually have a theory that Facebook is a joint FBI-CIA venture that was brought into existence with the Homeland Security Act of 2002. The creation of said website was probably hidden deep within the darkest recesses of the bill. The government realized that it doesn’t really need to spy on us, because we will let it all hang out since it is on a site with several million of our closest friends. Where did the government funding come from? I am sure the start up money was the very last of the funds left in the Social Security account. I believe that account used to be just for paying out funds to Social Security beneficiaries, but since it was opened up to the general monetary fund to help pay for the Korean War way back when, they have gone hog wild with it - like a twelve-year-old boy with “unlimited” cash in a video game store.

But, I digress.

As I said, I am now on Facebook. I am a Facebookie. Is that what we call ourselves? That sounds too much like a community of gamblers. Or is it Facebookers? That one is too close to making us sound like we are turning online tricks. Facers? That doesn’t even look like a word. Facies? Too close to feces. I don’t know what term will be or has been coined for those of us on Facebook, but for the time being…

We can call ourselves friends.

Until Next Time,

Wayne

PS I like this site fine. Just don’t get me started on eHarmony!!!!!!