Category: Humor

Emotional About Facebook

facebook11Sell my clothes; I’ve gone to Heaven!  Last week, the boys (and girls, too, I assume) down at Facebook thought we were finally mature enough to handle it and gave us emotions.  Wow!  For years, we’ve been hanging with our Cyber-friends, incapable of doing anything more than “Liking” and “Sharing” — kinda like first-term Kindergarten kids learning how to play nice with the other children.  Now, we can like, love, laugh and be happy — all at the click of a mouse — plus we can be sad and even hate.  Yeah, hate: the #1 bad boy for all millennials.  Cool, huh!

Here’s the deal.

1 — The new emotions were test-driven in Spain.  Curious choice?  Why not Holland?  Or India?  Or Canada?  Quite frankly, I’d pay money to find out who in the vast Zuckerburg Empire decided the Spanish were the emotional weathervane for the rest of us.

2 — We got one more emotion than Riley Andersen, the 11-year-old from the Disney movie Inside Out.  (She got 5; we get 6.)  Take that, you little cartoon rodent!  Goes to show ya the boys and girls at Facebook are willing to play hardball with the corporate big kids from The Magic Kingdom.  It’s kind of a subtle “our marketing department can beat up your marketing department.”  Personally, I can’t address this situation since I’m boycotting Disney right now because they refused to include Nala, from The Lion King, in their pantheon of Disney princesses.  Simba was raised by a same-sex couple, Timon and Pumbaa, and nobody bats an eye, but call somebody with a tail a princess and everybody’s all up in your face.  Damn species-ists!  But I digress.

3 — We still don’t get a “Dislike” icon.  There’s overwhelming evidence that all most Facebook users (Facebookers?) want is a way to “Dislike” those stupid cat pictures or political rants or the “share this post or you’re a heartless bastard” blackmail.  However, Facebook decided that it would be too “hurtful” and “negative” to let us actually dislike things.  I imagine when we get older, we’ll realize this cyber-guidance was for our own good.

4 — We can only have one emotion at a time.  As we all remember from puberty, adult emotions can be tough to deal with, but the folks at Facebook understand this and are making sure we go slowly at first so we don’t do silly things like “hate” something so much we make ourselves “sad.”

Anyway, I love these new emotions on Facebook.  I’m feeling all excited and virginal, and even though I can hardly wait to try cyber-crying for the first time, I kinda wanna save myself for the right moment.  Maybe I’ll just light some candles, open a bottle of wine and wait for somebody to post pictures of puppies — homeless puppies.

50 is a Biggie!

cindyCindy Crawford is 50.  I remember when Cindy was — OMG! — she still is.  To say the gods have been good to Cindy Crawford is like sayin’ John Dillinger robbed banks.  Yeah, she’s had some work done — big deal!  In an age when image is everything, this woman is the poster child for Wow!  And, to seal the deal, she’s worth north of 100 million dollars.  Anyway, Cindy Crawford is 50, and she’s decided to retire — or at least not model for money anymore.

Despite all the age-is-only-a-number bullshit that old people try to pull to feel good about themselves, 50 is still The Biggie.  It marks a distinct change in life and attitude.  I would not presume to give aging advice to Cindy Crawford, but for mere mortals, here are a few things you can expect when you hit the big Five-O.  (For those of us who are looking at 50 in the rear-view mirror, think of this as a stroll down memory lane.)

1 — You rediscover all the stuff you thought you couldn’t live without in your 20s and 30s and get rid of it.  Things like the soup tureen, that brass thing from Mexico, 24/7 house cleaning, punitive underwear, the whiny kid who thinks parent is spelt s-l-a-v-e and sometimes even that old thing on the sofa that’s been making your life miserable for years.

2 — Your clothes start to shrink.

3 — You start to make noises like your parents.  These aren’t words or opinions — just noises — like when you get up in the morning or bend down.

4 — Your body hair begins to resemble the fur on a badger.  The hair in your nose, ears, eyebrows and other places starts to regenerate overnight and have a wiry will of its own, sproinging off in all directions.

5 — The people on TV all start to look the same.

6 — Sex is way simpler.  First of all, you don’t have to wear uncomfortable clothes to get laid — sweats will do.  There are no Consent Forms (in triplicate) no medical history, no Vaccination Certificates, no birth control paraphernalia.  It’s all very straightforward.
“I’m horny.”
“Me too.”
“Ya wanna?”
“Yeah!”
“Meet ya behind the salad bar.”

7 — The six second delay between your mind and your mouth disappears.

8 — Everything under three feet tall appears to be unbelievably cute — kittens, pandas, Disney Princesses, ugly babies, — even those stupid little dogs with the kicked-in faces.

9 — Your body begins to betray you at the most inappropriate times, threatening to exude gases and fluids when it’s not supposed to or developing that unholy itch in a personal area just when you’re about to meet the new boss — or Kevin, from Accounting, behind the salad bar.

And finally:

10 — Even though you’ve been telling yourself this since you were 21, at 50, you finally realize that, in fact, you DON’T actually give a shit what people think.

Happy Birthday, Cindy!  Come on over; we’re having cake — and Pepsi!

Oscar is a Grouch (2016)

hollywoodOnly an idiot would get involved in Hollywood’s current Oscar controversy, and my mom didn’t raise any dummies.  It’s been my experience that when a bunch of millionaires are lining up to do battle, we common folk better head for the exits.  However, when entertainers try to be serious, there’s always the opportunity for some serious entertainment.

Some people say (but I’m not one of them) that this entire Oscar debacle started when Will Smith didn’t get a Best Actor nomination for Concussion.  When you’re one of the coolest people on the planet (and a billion-dollar box office asset) you normally get what you want — whenever you want it — so it’s understandable that when Oscar said to Will, “Sorry, not this year,” his response was “WTF?”  Unfortunately, when your carefully crafted image is one of the coolest people on the planet, you can’t actually say WTF out loud — ya gotta dress it up a little bit.  So the reason the Oscar grapes are sour is ’cause they’re just too damn monochromatic, and apparently nobody noticed that before (including both times Will Smith was nominated for an Oscar in the past.)  Anyway, the entire entertainment community is now in a politically correct conundrum — and it’s not pretty.  What to do?  What to do?

Lucky for us, movie stars are smart.  (After all, what would the world do without their wise and thoughtful political insights?)  The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will find a way out of this mess — the show must go on.

However, should they need some help … some people (but I’m not one of them) have offered this solution.  Raise the stakes, up the ante, show some muscle and invite Caitlyn Jenner to Oscar night.  Who in their wildest politically correct nightmare would boycott that?  Plus, and this is where the bike helmet meets the pavement, have her present the Oscar for Best Actor.  After all, Eddie Redmayne’s going to win for The Danish Girl.  Let’s face it, folks: this is definitely not going to be Leonardo DiCaprio’s year.  Even with his politically correct crocodile tears over climate change, the guy is just like so-o-o white, he’s blue.  (This is in no way an insensitive reference to DiCaprio’s death scene in Titanic, nor to the number of times he would have died of hypothermia if The Revenant was real.)

Some people (but I’m not one of them) think it’s hilarious that the politically correct Hollywood Hydra is now eating its own tail.  It’s a good thing I’m not involved, or I’d be laughing my ass off right now.

Disclaimer!  The politically incorrect views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of “some people” and do not necessarily reflect or represent the views or opinions held by WD Fyfe.
All characters and events in this blog — even those based on real people — are entirely fictional.  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is only in their own minds.
No actors were injured in the writing of this blog.