I'm a Criminal

Seriously. I'm like those rappers who shoot people.

Probably a felon, though I'm not quite sure what the legal gravity of my transgression amounts to in the eyes of the law-- but I am definitely guilty of a violation of law.

Modern law.

See-- I haven't updated my Facebook status since March 2nd. And, sooner or later, The Man is going to be kicking in my front door and will take me away from my wife and my dog and my new puppy.

And all of you. Because, surely, you can't blog from prison.

Can you?

Actually, you probably can.

So, yeah-- you're reading the words of an admitted criminal miscreant-- a dastardly ne'er-do-well who blatantly behaves in a manner counter to accepted and established societal norms.

Like all criminals, I have my reasons. Sorry-- my excuses. See, my computer exploded last week under the weight of a virus so powerful it totally overrode our OS and we had to get a completely new computer (it's an HP Slimline-- cute! Not as cute as MAC or an ambiguously ethnic celebrity child, but it's cute) and so that kind of fucked up my Facebook updating schedule.

It also threatened to fuck up my blogging schedule, but, because I love you, between my work computer and my smartphone, I found a way to make it work. Don't you feel loved?

I have lots of other excuses for my Facebook delinquency. Um, let's see-- my dad didn't pay enough attention to me from March, 1989-February, 1992. My physically stronger older sister left me feeling emasculated and ineffective as a male. My room wasn't big enough growing up. I watched too much "Rescue 911" as a child. My parents didn't let me have a dog. A once saw a clown taking a piss in a public restroom. My grandfather let me fall off the sliding board and I hurt my back. My mom cut her hair short when I was eight and then she got a full-time job.

What? Parenting me wasn't intellectually stimulating enough for her?

In any event, I would like to issue a public apology for my evident laxity in updating my Facebook status. Truly, I'm sorry. And, as someone who has a smartphone that is capable of issuing mobile status updates, I really do have no excuse.

Well, except for the ones stated above. But they are not even really sufficient to answer for my crime, and I understand that, and I accept whatever repercussions may be forthcoming.

One thing, though-- I'm a little bummed about the fact that nobody's emailed me to, you know, make sure I'm not dead. According to Facebook, which is the main source of truth for people in my age bracket, second only to the consistently unerring Wikipedia, I have 284 "friends."

Why haven't any of them checked my cyber-pulse? I mean, if you're under thirty and you're absent from Facebook for more than two weeks, that almost certainly means death. Even comatose people my age laid up and smacked down in ICU beds can usually find some way to communicate a status update to a critical care nurse through a series of mouth-twitches and eye rolls.

Makes me think-- maybe these people aren't really my friends after all....

But, if they're not.... then that means that.... you must be.

And you know I'm alive, because I update this shit far more than my Facebook page.

And, if that's true, (and, clearly it is), is My Masonic Apron becoming the new Facebook?

And, if that's true, (and it's not, but humor me for a second), could I become the new Mark Zuckerberg? And live in a palatial California mansion with blowjobs every time I turn around and five-ply toilet paper to gently caress my anus?

I like blowjobs. And soft things on my anus.

That said, I don't think I'm going to update my Facebook status again for a very long time.