Facebook - Sometimes You Can’t Face It

By TRB

I knew Facebook was the place you could go where you didn't have to be friends with your friends, I also knew that being friends with real friends can be a lot more boring and tiresome than being friends with fake ones. But as fake as all of this is, let's be real with it. Let's face it, if your can't get along with fake people, how do you expect to do too well with real ones?

I will talk about my own Facebook friends now without mentioning any names, some of which are not real anyway, offering two whole layers, wait a minute that's three layers, because you also never have to meet them - three whole layers of fake, where else can you get that, except from maybe a real-life mother-in-law or someone like that?

My friends on Facebook are always selling something, most of the time not a product. They're selling an idea. I do that too I guess, because my publisher, another of my fake friends, puts my blog up, a blog that sometimes calls for tearing the police barriers down and going to get the legislators in their seats.

I am lucky to have a wonderful writer as a friend, who isn't so bashful that she doesn't on occasion share some of her stuff with us. It is among the best I have read from anyone who has yet to make it. And I have real students who have years on her. Naturally she's hard on herself and doesn't like criticism. None of the really good ones do.

There are several other friends who can write really well. But there is this one woman who deals almost exclusively in single sentences Even when she misses the mark, its is usually because it went over the guy's heads. She will write a sentence that may or may mot be sexual (It is in the eye of the beholder.), and the men on here will run on about it for 30, usually more, or so posts - sexual all the way. Of course it doesn't hurt that she is beautiful.

I have an absolutely legitimate farmer-type woman who is always getting maple from her trees, eggs from her chickens or cheese from her goats. It is like she never sits down indeed, in her profile photo, she never does, and one is left with the impression that farm life is indeed an acquired taste. I have a friend who lives in Ireland, who I quite often can't figure out. She's also pretty deep into the music and can pull records out of the air you would swear had been buried in landfills decades ago. I am also in fake love with her. The easiest kind.

I am not quite sure if I have the appropriate number of Laupers. I think I've got Cyndi, who is probably her assistant. There are other Cyndi Laupers out there in Facebook land, but I like this one. I figure, even if she's not Lauper, she deserves to be be, because her home pages are so damn convincing.

Then I have one of a few Joan Jetts making the rounds. I like my Joan Jett. She openly admits to not being Joan and she's friendly. I had the real Joan as a friend once and she was one rude rocker. I don't want to go through that again.

The "problem" so many say with my site, is that I only have 30 - 40 people at a time. I have 37 at the present moment. But I don't want more than forty. I want the time to know all of my fake friends, I've got this woman who I believe is from Newfoundland who is just magical. Naturally when I say I've got her I don't mean that literally. She is a projection of electrons that makes me believe she is from Newfoundland. Mind you, I realize she could be my nextdoor neighbor wearing a fur hat,

My biggest problem is that I have higher-than-normal spatial powers, It's not Superman stuff, but I have the ability to know where everything is almost every time and I can find my way out to the dining room,

It is uncanny. Because of this I have - in my mind at least - broken my page into various sections that don't exist and I've even labeled them. If I am writing to someone on their wall, and we are carrying on a conversation, I feel as as though I am sitting at a desk with the person across from me.

If I have to go into my profile, which I call "the garage," it's almost like a real garage that needs some cleaning up. If I put up a record, suddenly I am in a dance hall but none of us can dance, not on Facebook. And there are these light blue candy wrapper-like things that are always floating by when I am writing a post. Are these the flashbacks they said were inevitable?

Then, just as you are making the appointment for your shrink, comes the cho cho trains. I like these. Sometimes they are real stars, sometimes they're not. But they perform these long congas across my screen at least 10 times a day and I don't even know why they do it. And I don' t want to know. Maybe Hollywood stars are kidnapping people on Facebook and Facebook gets a cut.

The feeds we receive on this page are always on the Lefties side, and I like that. I have heard all the rumors of the CIA involvement in FB and why the hell do they continue to ask for my unlisted number? I am the TRB who worked at Stars and Stripes ( and many other pubs) and lives on Cape Cod, Someone put that up on Wikepedia - if that's the way you spell it. Then FB came up with my condensed biography including my real name. How did they do that? It is on here somewhere.

I had to do something horrible this week. I had to ban my best friend. He received a head wound in the service and they thought it was all taken care of. Then he began to have strokes. I invited him on this page (s) and soon discovered he was out of his mind. The other day I read a post of his discussing the "beauty " of his genitals. He lives in Spokane, his wife died several years ago.

So I guess FB is more real than many give it credit for.