Facing Up To Facebook

CRAZY THING IS, after all these years, all the misadventures, I'm still up and running, ready to rock n roll. Twenty five years ago, on AOL, in the era of the not so immortal chat room, I positioned myself as an observer, there only to write a book all about it, a book which never got written. In the intervening quarter century,I wrote and published no fewer than five thousand four hundred and two pages of incisive non fiction on this website, with many more, knock on wood, to come. (I'm aiming for ten thousand total one page essays before I pass). Fifty four hundred is enough for eighteen three hundred page books of essays, so, no complaints. But,so far, no seminal monograph. But that may change. Now, my research for a future book centers around the messages I receive daily on Facebook,and their what to me is nothing other than bizarre content. I never message anybody, but boy, do I get some doozies, great fodder for a future book, methinks, for a guy who doesn't even have a profile per se, nor a selfie with which to grace it. That, although basically all I do on Facebook is share pictures of cute kittens, pretty flowers, and scenic scenes, throw in a few unpleasant comments on posts unfavorable to one of America's more controversial former presidents, and post advertising promoting this website. And, for all that, despite the apparent innocence of my Facebook activity, I get repeated warnings about violating "community standards", as if I'm selling child pornography. On occasion, they give me a one hour sit on the bench, which I judiciously use to drink coffee, catch up on email, twiddle my thumbs, and grin sardoncially. Evidently, community standards do not sanction cute kittens and pretty flowers. My impression is that other Facebook folks are similarly confused. Why bother reading the incoherent jumbled "explanations" provided by the Facebook God? Have the algorrythms gone insane? Has the great Zuck himself lost his Harvardian mind? The best scam message this morning, so far,(but its still early), came from a dude with the usual greeting. The "Hi Bob how are you hope you are well where are you from can I see your pic?" sort. Standard stuff. I prompted with "I am well in Arkansas why are you messaging me?". To the point, please. The point, believe it or not, was that the gentleman was soon receiving one point five million dollars in pay, in cash, from his former employer, a company of some sort. I, and only I, it seemed, could help him, could do him a favor, by receiving it, presumably at the doorstep of my lovely ranch style suburban home deep in rural Arkansas. Red flag, flying high. One quick caveat. He asked me if I would be good enough to not steal any of it, which I thought was fair. I would get my cut, he assured me. That was nice to hear. I like doing favors for good, honest folks, but a little gratuity goes a long way towards "sweetening the Pot", as it were. By this time I had long since typed in my usual disclamier, the one about where I, as a purely precautionary measure, record all offers I receive on Facebook, and send them to law enforcement, for the pros to look over, to weed out the potential scams. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, I cheerfully offered. Keep talking, I told him. Seemingly unfazed, he kept talking. Usually they shut right the hell up, smartly. An oblivious or interpid few of them, seemingly enjoying living on the edge, this one included, pretended to be umoved by my mention of law enforcement. Pretended. Dollars to donuts he was moved. The pleas suddenly became plaintive, almost pitiful. "I guess you're not ready for this". No shit,Sherlock?", as we say. He had the basic courtesty to type in "bye" just before he vanished, just before I blocked him. I must confess I am half tempted to unblock his stupid scamming ass and play with him a little more, but I don't want to get greedy, and, in any event, I have a veritable multitudinous plethora of forthcoming scams to deal with, as its still early, mostly from young, very attractive ladies (they always send pics, and ask for mine) who just cannnot wait to "hook up" with a 69 year old retired history professor, if only they can borrow the gas money it takes to get all the way to Arkansas. Those are by far the most fun, fodder for my still unwritten book, a seminal monograph. no doubt.