Kicking and Screaming

I finally broke down and created a Facebook account.  I’ve been fiercely holding out for years, but I finally found myself in a professional situation that required one.  Why would I resist for so long from engaging in an activity that provides me with real-time updates on when a distant relative leaves the gym?  Exactly.

I’ve been perusing my wall, which might also be accurately referred to as an unsorted pile of single stream recycling, and here are some examples of what I’m seeing:

  • Someone just worked out.  Again.  Great for you.  I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow you made my clothes feel even tighter.
  • Someone I haven’t talked to since high school reached out to say “What’s up?  What have you been up to since high school?”.  Honestly, if you weren’t there for the last quarter of a century, I don’t have the energy to type it.  At this point, you’ll  just have to wait for the recap on America’s Most Wanted.
  • An inside joke that one person gets yet is transmitted to thousands of people.  I’m not in IT, but if your friend has Facebook, I’m pretty sure you can just email them directly.
  • Oh look, a friend just had twins.  Mazel Tov.  But as a parent of triplets, what you told me is that you shy away from a real challenge.
  • Multiple postings on what was eaten at various meals.  I also get a shockingly high number of these via Twitter.  I’m guessing this is not what Al Gore had in mind when he created the internet.
  • All kinds of recent photos taken many, many miles from the person’s house.  I hope you have a burglar alarm and good homeowner’s insurance.

Now, Facebook is not without value to me.  I do like seeing current photos of friends and family, I’ve been known to ‘like’ Proctor & Gamble’s page for a free soap coupon, and I can tell when a friend has passed away when their workout updates have ceased.  I also find nuggets of wisdom that enrich my life.  For example, just today a friend aptly noted that whomever scheduled a Presidential debate on the last day of the baseball season is not fit to lead our country.

I’m sure once I learn to navigate Facebook more intelligently, I’ll derive more utility from it.  And, I admit I probably sound like a crotchety, (42 year) old man.  So friends, please keep posting your lunch plans, your calories burned, and the up-to-the-minute alerts on the traffic jam you are in.  Just give me time, and I’ll figure it out.

Wow, they actually won.

Q: How many hookers was Tim Tebow caught with after winning the Steelers game?

A:  None.  Yet another reason he does not belong in today’s NFL.

Q: How many hookers was Tim Tebow caught with after winning the Steelers game?

A:  None.  He runs far too well to be caught.

Q: How many hookers was Tim Tebow caught with after winning the Steelers game?

A:   Just one, but he was only teaching the underprivileged youth how to shower.

Q: How many hookers was Tim Tebow caught with after winning the Steelers game?

A:  Who cares, he just won a playoff game.  Go to town, son!

Tim Tebow walks into a bar…

Tim Tebow, Joe Montana and Peyton Manning walk into a bar.  They order a round of beers, except for Tebow who, as usual, orders his as a boilermaker.   One round turns into another, and pretty soon, they’re all feeling good.  The smack starts flying around. 

“Admit it, fellas. I’m the best QB of all time,” says Joe, “Rings are the proof of that.”

“Don’t think so, Joe.” says Peyton, “Look at the stats, and admit you’re wrong.”

Tebow jumps in, “You guys had good teams.  I can take a total loser and make them a winner.  I’m the best.”

They decide to hash it out right there, with a football.  Joe goes first and throws a football the length of the bar and knocks a beer glass off of the head of the bartender. “Beat that,” he says.  Peyton stands up and with one throw, also from the length of the bar, knocks a beer glass from the head of the bartender and knocks a shot glass from the mouth of a waitress.  “I guess that settles it,” Peyton says as he sits back down.

Tebow stands up, grabs a football and throws it.  It zips by the bartender, behind the waitress and out an open window in the men’s room.  The crowd erupts and declares him the winner.

“How did you do that?”, asks a dumbfounded Joe.

“I’m Tim Tebow,” Tim replies, ”I always win and I never hit anything.”