Category: Humour

Facebook Desperado

I’ve always known that, despite outward appearances, I was a badass. Now I can prove it.

But you need a little background.

First, I’m on Facebook.  I use it to keep track of my friends and family without harassing them with “old man” telephone calls.  I scroll through, see what everybody’s doing, click “like” if I actually like something (weird, huh?) and move on to real life.  Handy as a hip pocket!

Second.  I live in Canada.  But I live in the one part of Canada (Vancouver) where it doesn’t really get cold and we hardly ever get snow.  When we do get snow, it’s an event — kinda like Carnival in Rio except with winter coats, a lot more swearing and traffic accidents.

Okay?  Stay with me.

This year, it snowed in Vangroovy – a bunch.  We had a White Christmas.  It was an event.  I posted it on Facebook.  Here’s the picture and here’s the caption.

 “Okay, Mother Nature.  Enough is enough.  Go Home.  You’re drunk.”

Then, a couple of days later, when there was more snow, I posted another picture – again with a caption.

“HEY, Mother Nature! Again with the snow? That’s it. I’ve had it. One more time and I’m taking legal action. How would you like a big fat Restraining Order, you bi … bad person?”

Me and my Facebook friends had a good laugh, and all was well with the world.

Then the snow went away.  And I posted this picture …

AND ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE!

My post was deleted because … wait for it … the Zuckerberg Police said, “Your post goes against our Community Standards on hate speech.”  Not only that, but I was warned that if I continued to flout these Community Standards, my account would come under review and my Facebook privileges could and probably would be taken away.  (No more “Thumbs Up” for you – ya Nazi!)    

To be fair, it wasn’t the picture that pissed them off; it was the caption.  I can’t write the caption here just in case the Algorithms are still watching me (they probably are) but here’s the gist of it:

First word – D** — cease to exist.
Second word – Y** — not me but …
Third word — W**** — the colour of snow
Fourth word – D***** — residents of Hell

Apparently, if you’re going to criticize snow, you have to play nice or – uh – the snow? — will be offended?  I think?  (The Zuckerberg militia didn’t actually explain.)

Now, I could go on and on about the mindless, senseless, cyber monopoly called Facebook and how it has slithered its soulless tentacles into every aspect of our daily lives.  I could mention that “the Big F” answers to no-one, and that Biden, Putin and the Pope combined don’t have the kind power Zuckerberg’s minions do.  (Don’t they wish they did!)  Or I could suggest that — of all the bizarre, stupid, ridiculous, hateful and downright harmful things I’ve seen on Facebook — controlling hate speech against snow doesn’t strike me as a top priority.

I could do all those things.  But I’m not gonna.  Cuz I’m a badass now.  I’m walking tall.  I’m talking tough.  I’d drink my juice out of the carton if my wife would let me.  Maybe I’ll just get a neck tattoo: “Born to flout Community Standards.”  Yeah!  And I’ll misspell “flout,” cuz that’s the way guys like me roll!

Questions!

Unless you’re four years old, Seth Rogen or the Big Lebowski, you don’t have a lot of time to lie around the house and wonder why.  Adults, who aren’t permanently affixed to 4/20 self-medication, learn to take a few things on faith.  After all, “why?” is a pretty open-ended question and much if it, without herbal encouragement, isn’t worth the trouble.  For example, I don’t know why there are 8,000 different kinds of pasta, and, honestly, I don’t care.  I’m sure somebody knows the difference between linguini, fettuccini and all of other “inis,” out there, but it ain’t me.  However, there are times when our inner child does escape on a Friday morning and, over a second cup of coffee just wonders why.

During automobile commercials, when the car speeds up, why are the wheels turning the wrong way?  I’m no fan of physics, but that’s impossible.

The Ancient Greeks believed in a pantheon of gods who lived on Mount Olympus.  Mount Olympus is only 3,000 metres high.  Why didn’t somebody just climb the mountain and look?

When anti-religious people get upset about religious symbols like burkas and crucifixes, why doesn’t anybody ever mention yoga pants?  Honestly, we should do something about yoga pants.

Why television advertisements for hearing aids don’t have subtitles.  It seems to me they’re missing their target audience.

Why, after a murder, it’s always some jogger who finds the body.  I don’t trust joggers — uh — or people who walk their dogs, either.

Why single women in romantic comedies all have crap jobs but fabulous apartments full of cool furniture.  And how — exactly — are they paying for all this?

Why vegans always announce they’re vegan at parties.  Are they worried somebody’s going to accidently drop a pork chop in their drink?

Why English actors can sound like they’re American but, when American actors try to do a British accent, they all sound like they’ve got a carrot up their nose.

Why do people use the phrase “funny as hell.”  By all accounts, Hell isn’t the least bit funny.

Why Nala from The Lion King and Maid Marian from Robin Hood aren’t Disney princesses.  I think it’s a clear case of species-ism (specaphobia?)

Why a stress ball isn’t for throwing at people who stress you out.

Why algebra?

Why everybody cheers for the early bird but nobody has any compassion for the early worm.

Why people watch horror movies.  I fail to see how scaring the bejesus out of yourself passes for “entertainment.”  And that goes double for scary rides at the State Fair.

Every year, charities spend thousands and thousands of dollars making television commercials to solicit donations.  Why don’t they take the big money they’re spending on film crews, transportation, actors, actresses and TV time and just give it to the people they’re trying to help?

Why don’t psychics ever win the lottery?

And finally, two of my favourites:

If Darwin’s Theory of Evolution is correct and there is natural selection, then why, after 50,000 years of human history, are there still so many stupid people kicking around?

Why, when you can pretend to be anything you want on social media, people choose to be stupid.

Boundaries!

We need some new rules.  Let’s face it, folks: we live in childish times.  Our opinions are no longer thoughtful and measured but instant and shrill.  Our discussions are loud and unruly: our voices are pouty.  We whine and complain, and we’re constantly throwing temper tantrums when we don’t get what we want.  (Take a peek at all the Lockdown protests.)  In short, we’ve become a bunch of bratty children.  So, it’s time we set up a few boundaries.  Here are some suggestions: feel free to add to the list.

Like fishing, hunting and driving a car, people must have a license before they’re allowed to use Social Media.  They must pass a test that proves they’re actually smarter than a four-year-old before they can have a Facebook, Twitter or Instagram account.

If you’re having a serious political discussion, you cannot refer to ex-president Trump.  It’s been eight months.  He’s gone.  Give it a rest!

Grown men must not wear short pants if they are more than 5 metres away from a beach, a playground, a picnic spot or their own backyard.  (Guys, what don’t you understand about “grown man?”)

Baseball caps must be worn the right way round.  Look, ya moron! Wearing them backwards actually defeats the whole purpose of the hat.

Old men on loud motorcycles must seek professional help for their penis anxiety.

A baby stroller is not a weapon.  Therefore, it cannot be larger, wider, taller or heavier than the mom pushing it.  And dads, the mall is not Charlotte Motor Speedway — and neither is the grocery store.  Slow down!  Your kids are getting wind-burnt.

You can no longer claim to be “spiritual” just because you have a foreign language tattoo.  (The only thing you can claim is you have bad taste and too much disposable income.)

“Like,” “Awesome,” “You know” “Totally” and “Amazing” are banned from polite conversation.

The phrase “plus size” is also banned.  It’s just a sneaky way of reminding ordinary women they’re not supermodels.

The words “for” and “about” are no longer interchangeable.  “I’m embarrassed for it” and “I’m embarrassed about it” are completely different.  The first one isn’t even English.

Vegans must wait at least 5 minutes before announcing their status to strangers.  This rule does not apply to vegetarians (who normally don’t get all pissy about their culinary habits, anyway.)

If you’ve been in 3 or more movies, you’re no longer allowed to talk about poverty.  You’re riding around in a limousine, for God’s sake!  What can you possibly tell anybody about being poor?  (This goes double if you play a musical instrument for money.)

Professional athletes can no longer be paid more than the GDP of Malta.  They’re kicking a ball, not curing cancer. Let’s get some perspective.

From here on, celebrities have to be famous for a reason.  (And a photo-shopped picture of your ass on Instagram doesn’t count!)

And finally

Actors, actresses, singers and musicians who visit poor countries — for whatever reason — are no longer allowed to bring orphan kids home as souvenirs.