Facebook, without fail, will lead us headlong into the icy apocalypse

Anyone there read books? Of course you do. That is just the bitter, elitist, book-smart with no skills grouchy old-man who still has a VCR and scarcely knows how to blog talking. I won't accuse you of being less smart than me by blah, blah, blahing that print is dead. Pretentious hipster fuckwads. I fucking love video games and I am so computer literate I shit on an iToilet.

Irregardless, as they say in south Georgia, (anywhere past Atlanta airport) Kurt Vonnegut is my favorite writer, as he is many isolated broke-ass doomsday dreamers my age. Cat's Cradle is one of my faves for sure, since all real literature is either about love or the apocalypse anyway. In that story there is a Calypso prophet named Bokonon, who forms a new religion. He saw the end of the world coming before it froze over. The government leaked a formula for a weapon called "Ice-9" that, you guessed it, leads us all to an Ice Age 2: Electric Bugaloo. I specify this to differentiate this from the animated movie, "Ice Age 2"
My bad!

I don't have the book in front of me, my two dollar copy just disintegrated in my hands one day. But as far as I remember, one of the calypsos of Bokonon defined your "karras," I think, for a simple definition was people who's destinies were intertwined or collided with yours. In the book the four people in a plane crash were in the same karras. They wouldn't know each other on thier own accord, but are conjoined by forces out of their control.

In my own terms, the waiter who waits on you when you're breaking up with your girl, some homeless guy with shit stuck to his pants that makes you realize your more repulsed by other people than empathetic or maybe it's the guy at Krauser's who sold your mother the lemon flavored pez that got mixed in with her birth control pills that resulted in you being born (by all means picture your parents fucking in a '73 Dodge Dart right now) or whatever. They are all in your karrass, these are people doing thy (God's???) will, unwittingly so, nothing is at random as it seems.

All of the this leads me to my next long-winded point. Facebook has greatly upset karass. There was a natural order of things. Particulary, the past stayed in the past. For generations we survived without knowing what they guy from college who ate human shit on a cracker for five bucks, thought about health care. Must we know everything about everybody? Yes, there are people who get married via Facebook (i know two couples offhand, who couldn't seem happier) But I think for the most part, we are projecting our neurosis, adulterous lust, pride in children to the point of mass annoyance and most of all, we have a transparent window into just how lonely adult life can be.

So how is this leading to the apocalypse? That I do not know. But i think Bokonon would call Facebook a "grafalloon" which is a false Karass, people who think they have a real connection when they don't. Like being from the same hometown, liking the same band etc. I think this will result in chaos and a future where people forget how to socialize and the erosion of basic human empathy and privacy. Can you imagine a status update from June, 5, 1944? "Dewey Morris is gearing up to invade Normandy. Hope there are no Germans on FB!!! LOL!!!!"

On a personal level, I have been thinking of fates, fortunato and (Alex) Karrass (former NFL lineman who played the Dad on "Webster") Why did I bump into someone I used to work with on Will & Grace on the 4 train, when I so would have preferred to cut my sac with a rusty razor than to talk to him? How can I separate the Karras from the Garafallon??? Can you date in the facebook age where you have advanced knowledge how bad your next breakup will be? Spoiler alert!!! You're petty attempts at free will are laughable.

But I take comfort at the random chaos of science. That works better for me than some "It's all God's will" Now that's a reach!!!

Coming soon: How match.com will lead us to generations of inbreeding.
Home is where you're barely tolerated.

Schindler's List 2: Electric Bugaloo.

Them Nazi's got served!!!!! No you di'int!!!!


Hey anyone,

As you can see I haven't blogged in months and have yet to really blog anything of substance, as if I would want to do that. I have been slow to recognize the word "blog" as an action verb anyway, but they used to say the same about "pork."

Similarly, I am slow to embrace new technology and blogging isn't even really new anymore, but I continued to make mixed tapes until 2005. ("Crimson and Clover," "So Alive" were on my standard nookie mix- kidding- sort of)

Those who know me know that I have been writing my whole life and will continue to do so whether I ever get paid to or not. I have kept a journal as long as I could write. It's a perverse and disturbing trail of Jack Torrence-like rants, repressed Catholic smutty thoughts and insufferable abstract poems that are really about food or sex anyway. Its scrwaled across about 50 bent spiral notebooks that I don't even know where the hell they are.

You would think that I would naturally be blogging out of this but I always thought they canceled each other out. A journal after all is completely free since no one ever reads it. So what point is a blog? Well ultimately, writing something that no one will read is just mastubatory and cowardly anyway. In other words I didn't want to blog because I didn't want to write anything that was less than honest and if I truly revealed the inner-most thoughts of my concious, I simply wouldn't have friends anymore. I feel like I have to be so damn neutral on my Facebook page or risk being stuck in a healthcare debate with some neanderthal townie I haven't seen in 20 years. (Sometimes I think all of this is unnatural and we are disrupting natural social order of things by not leaving the past in the past, but that's a separate post)

In the end, I know that truth is subjective and fluid anyway, and this hopefully will be a tad less self-indulgent than my journal (though plenty self-indulgent, in case you forgot who you were talking to) I suppose to, we can safely conclude that I overthought this and pretty much everything else.
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