Do I Stil Exist if I'm not on FaceBook?

If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to post it on Facebook (FB) does it really happen? Given that I’m no longer on FB, this metaphysical question keeps me up at night.  If I’m not on FB, is my life really happening?  Philosophers better get back to the drawing board. Humanity is drowning in Narcissus’ reflecting pool and I'm having an existential crisis. 

You don’t have to be King Tut to build yourself a pyramid.  

All you need is a computer and a FaceBook account.

The premise of Facebook is nothing new. Cave paintings, hieroglyphs, diaries, pictographs and film –FB is fulfilling the prehistoric need to show off.  But the difference is FB is in real-time and worldwide.  FB is the Big Bang to man’s vanity.  Cue the Kardaishans.

I blame Zuckerburg.

There are many positives about Facebook.  Since FB hijacked the word friend, you can collect them like Beanie Babies© : i.e.,  "Look, I have 2,032!"  It provides one with a backseat driver to life  (or 2,032 of them), dispensing digital thumbs up instead of directions. And thanks to the tag option, your most unflattering photos can now be made public for the world.  Let's be honest, the best part about FB is that it’s free admission to cyber-stalk.

My real life friends are cooler than this.

The day I read a status update about a ‘friend’ picking his nose was the day I suspended my account.  Ok, that's a fib. But it’s not a stretch. It frightens me that the desire for public validation has become necessary for even the most mundane, and personal of moments. Does one really need global applause for clipping his toenails?  

Andy Warhol was a psychic genius – 

why Dionne Warwick didn’t hire him is a mystery to me. 

The real reason I’m not on FB anymore is that I’m lazy, and it’s a full time job ‘liking’ everything posted by my Beanie Baby collection. Maybe I’m too self-centered to care.  But if FB is part of our collective conscious, my absence from it theoretically makes me unconscious. I’m like a naked hippie, barefoot in cyberspace and completely oblivious to the birthdays, anniversaries, engagements, and baby/pet announcements of everyone I’ve ever met. And it's ok because I'm busy finding myself on blogger.  Wait, blogger...am I really here?  That's Psychedelic.

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Yoda For President

You know things have taken a turn for the worse when the political dialogue is no longer just about a candidate's underwear*, but about the size of the junk in there.  Our once semi-elevated political discourse has hit the iceberg and it’s going down - quick.  When FDR said "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," he wasn't aware just how scary the 2016 Republican debates would be. *(see Romney)

Front and center in last night’s debate was the most crucial issue facing the nation.  Who fits the XXXL condom? Donald or Marco.  Why none of the moderators brought a ruler to settle this dispute is unclear.  Megyn was off her game.  Seriously, someone please inform Trump and Rubio that the term ‘Dick Swinging Contest’ is not to be taken literally.  Unfortunately this circus show was not a surprise.  If there was ever any doubt, it's now been confirmed: The first thing Trump ever 'fired' was his decorum. 

Now I know what happens when oompa-loompas
 leave the Chocolate Factory. Charlie, come get him.

Turns out FOX could've saved a lot of money on a set designer. Petulant children need a playground, not a stage. And why was Kasich the one put in the corner?  Kasich was the lone voice of reason, yet Donald was center ring 80% of the debate.  As predicted, Trump kept the audience in hysterics.  I half expected to see tomatoes fly.  It was insult comedy at it’s best (or worst). I had to turn off the TV and meditate after minute 20. What I should have been doing is praying Ringling Bros. stays in business.  I'm guessing ticket sales are down.

This is the kind of thinking we need in the White House.

Dear FOX, I know Reality TV is ratings gold but this is becoming a little too real.  The news media needs to stop slobbering all over these clowns and not only ask some tough questions, but hold them to the answer.  What is a moderator for, if not to steer the candidate back to the point at hand?  In all seriousness, I think it's time to put Yoda on the ballot.  Technically, he’s an illegal alien.  However, he's succinct, direct and to the point.  The best part is: Yoda probably doesn’t even have a penis. But...I'll bet his lightsaber is bigger than Donald’s.