The Great Facebook Experiment …

I don’t do social media.  Why, you ask?  Because for the most part it has become the home of the self-serving.  The people who make daily postings to Facebook appear to be always engaged in self-promotion. And, quite honestly, that’s not my thing.  Yes, I want people to think that I am thoughtful, maybe even insightful, but the essence of my life is not found in what I ate, where I vacationed or how I have remodeled my “master suite” (yes, I dared to use the word “master”, and no, I don’t have a suite).

Yesterday, my cousin called to tell me that my hometown historical society has received years’ worth of photographic negatives from the town’s local newspaper. Those photos, which encompass the dates of my residency, are being posted to Facebook.  “I should have an account,” he said.  So, I started thinking about that.  Out here, on the wide-open internet (where you find this bit of cyberspace), I have been able to set my own standards.  I tell you what is on my mind and rarely bother you with what is in my belly. But Facebook operates to a whole other standard.  Being unsure if I could meet the expectations of the average Facebook reader, I have decided to do what I will call, The Great Facebook Experiment. I have decided to post here that content (about me) that would qualify me as a genuine and knowledgeable “Facebooker.”  So here we go. Over the next few days, I will entertain you, and doubtless spur your insane jealousy, by posting the most minute details of my lavish lifestyle.  I will leave nothing to the imagination.

Let’s start with yesterday, 25 April 2023 (as I have it well documented):

Yesterday morning I imposed myself on the busy staff if the local Well Pet Clinic.  While there, I exercised my notorious animal handling skills to interact with a young Pit Bull named Dakota.  She was heading to her “forever home” and I spent some time wishing her well. Of course, I was thrilled when one staff member pointed out to another that she, the pit bull, had taken a liking to me. My self-image thusly reinforced, I strutted off to take on the day.

At 1800, I drove cross country to a local apartment complex.  Upon arrival, I set a cat trap in the shadows behind a dumpster (pictured here). I am highly skilled at slipping into neighborhoods, where I do not live, then depositing or retrieving a cat trap. It is interesting to see the various items that, while tossed in the general direction of the dumpster, miss their mark, and therefore litter the surrounding area. In this photo, my best brown cat trap is set against a variety of trash, including a disposable diaper that had doubtlessly been successful in its original application.

While behind the dumpster, I discovered that another kind soul had left an item of delight for both the feral cats and the local wildlife. At the same time, I realized that I had been seriously “one-upped.”  I decided to leave the cat trap anyway and, navigating heavy shrubbery, I returned to my truck.  This photo shows the food offering that had been left earlier by what turned out to be one of my own kitty rescue comrades.  How does one compete with that (and we all know that the essence of life is competition, right)?

While we are wallowing in my success, let me add a word about my truck.  It is the sought after 2010 Toyota Tacoma single cab; it is equipped with 2.4L (four cylinder) engine, a manual transmission, manual door locks, hand cranked windows, and of course, it has no distracting satellite radio. My plan is to drive it for another tenth of a million miles and still make a tidy profit, selling it to one of the many illegals who enter this country each day.

Upon returning to my vehicle, I discovered some “pandemic era” hand sanitizer. I decided that I could clean myself sufficiently to skip dinner prep (a trip to the refrigerator) and eat out.  I settled on an “easy in, easy out” dining option that requires no reservation. That decision resulted in the scrumptious meal shown here. The cat food in the background is a bit of kit that is carried by every seasoned and knowledgeable cat trapper. It provided a nice seafood “surf” aroma in the small and sun warmed cab, enhancing my decidedly “turf” Whopper with cheese.

Now, when the day is done, “guys like me” don’t settle for just any accommodation.  I need to be coddled in the very finest.  I want complete control over my surroundings and most of all, I want to share this with my most intimate upscale friends. Of course, in my astronomical socioeconomic position that is easily accomplished. First let’s take a look at one of my very influential friends, shall we?

This is Mittens.  He’s Head of Extermination in my luxurious sleeping area. His background is one of travel and personal adventure.  Until my organization came forward with a better offer, Mittens lived the feral lifestyle (late nights, lots of kitty girls and party, party, party … just, not always including dinner).  On his first night in our house (circa 2015), we moved him directly to the basement. That move precipitated some pretty big changes for the rest of us. He couldn’t stay down there alone, could he? Of course not, not with the kind of benevolence that one encounters around here. A single bed was moved from the bonus room to a spot just behind my basement workbench. Soon, both Mittens and I discovered how dark one could make a windowless basement. It’s cool, if not a bit humid, and we were the very first to know about it when the basement flooded a year or two ago.

But all that borders on the mundane, so let’s get back to accommodation, shall we?  There is much you can do to “fine tune” the ambience of the unfinished basement.  With tastes that lean toward the equestrian, I was delighted when my sister-in-law gifted me what has come to be known as the “horsey blanket.”  It is front and center in this photo of my world class accommodation.

The cement block wall is both understated, yet functional, and the cast-off cardboard box suggests the excitement of some new toy having just arrived.  Unseen to the casual observer is a carefully calibrated three-inch rise toward the bedhead, which comfortably accommodates my GERD.

And what is a boudoir without entertainment? Bedtime entertainment is provided by a $5.00 CD changer, obtained at the local equivalent of Goodwill. The player provides low level drive to an eBay sourced graphic equalizer (which is missing only one plastic button).  That grand assemblage then delivers only slightly distorted audio to the input of the decidedly upscale Crown D-60 amplifier.  This particular D-60 is one of three obtained from an electronic scrap “breaker” (look it up, that’s the proper name for the dissembling of things into salable scrap metal).  I will add here that everyone, who is anyone, has a “breaker” as one of his, or her, personal friends.  Finally, that impeccable system drives a set of Audio-Technica headphones, which are only slightly larger than might be optimal for bedtime listening. See for yourself, I am well stocked with CDs and reading material and the lighting is decidedly subdued … Just elegant!

All that remains, to fully authenticate my over-the-top lifestyle, is to flaunt my airy and awe-inspiring office space.  In fact, I am sitting there right now, with only a partially obstructed view of a cement block wall.  The luxurious texture of the wall is gained from the random nature of those little gray balls that make up the “cinder blocks” themselves.  One block, which was randomly placed almost directly in front of me, is adorned with mud that has clung to it since the building’s construction.   

Art, of course, is an essential part of any decor. In my case, the cinder block is punctuated up by a poached photo from the internet (probably copyrighted), a scan of four photos relating to my Naval service, and a plot associated with the current sunspot cycle (always display something that suggests you know more than you do about science or medicine).   This photo captures the grandeur of my view.

Lastly, a workspace that promotes productivity must include clean lines and open space, both can be seen in this view of my workspace

What have I learned from this exercise?  I have learned that mindless babble about the elegance of my lifestyle, and the posh locale where it is lived, requires no thought whatsoever.  Further, it imparts no information of lasting value.  You have no better insight into my faith or my philosophy than if I’d used this time to walk the dog, or to take a much-needed nap.  I think this experiment has settled the matter; I am not a candidate for Facebook. 

Postscript: There really was no moral to this story, it was simply a spoof on Facebook … until I found one. It speaks to a simple life: “Better is a handfull with quietness … than both hands full with travail and vexation of spirit.” Ecclesiastes 3:6