An Award-Winning Disclaimer

A charming little Magpie whispered this disclaimer into my ear, and I'm happy to regurgitate it into your sweet little mouth:

"Disclaimer: This blog is not responsible for those of you who start to laugh and piss your pants a little. Although this blogger understands the role he has played (in that, if you had not been laughing you may not have pissed yourself), he assumes no liability for damages caused and will not pay your dry cleaning bill.

These views represent the thoughts and opinions of a blogger clearly superior to yourself in every way. If you're in any way offended by any of the content on this blog, it is clearly not the blog for you. Kindly exit the page by clicking on the small 'x' you see at the top right of the screen, and go fuck yourself."

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Hi. I "Like" You.

Disclaimer: If you don't especially enjoy lists, then this post probably isn't going to be on your list of things to do today.

I resisted Facebook for a long time and, even after I ceased resistance, I resisted doing things on it, like updating my status and uploading pictures. Finally, I realized that I was resisting just to be contrary, to be different than "the masses," to eschew what is popular-- kind of like why I still haven't seen "Titanic," why I don't read "Hyperbole and a Half," and why I often pee sitting down.

Of course, posting shit on Facebook is fun. I can't deny the funny little tickle I get when Adam K. "Likes" one of my statuses (or, um, most of them) or when someone makes a clever comment about an ancient photograph scanned and posted by one of my elementary school cohorts (I'll get you for that, Lauren G., or whatever the hell your married last name initial is now-- are you really a mother? Gah!) What can I say? Facebook is the new Heaven and Zukerberg is on everybody's crucifix of fun.

Happy. Times. Bitchcakes.

I was on Le Livre de Visage recently and I was struck by the number and diversity of things that people "Like." For instance, on my wall, I learned today that two people (I don't know who they are) "Like" a photograph of a stuffed Gonzo climbing a Christmas tree, presumably ascending to take the place of the star of Bethlehem. Two people, one of them an old classmate of mine, like someone's status that informs the world that, "Amoxicillin smells just like it did 25 years ago." 3 people also like chocolate Teddy Graham Cracker crust, or, at least, they "Like" it, or, at least, they "Like" the mere mention of it.

As part of the work I do to advocate support for the families of fallen police officers, I also get Facebook updates from The Officer Down Memorial Page. They just sent me notice that a motorcycle officer in Texas died from injuries sustained while escorting, ironically, a funeral procession. The update was sent out six minutes ago, and already 15 people "Like" it, which sounds absolutely awful, but I know that's not what they mean.

On my own profile page, Facebook has alerted me to the fact that at least one of my "Friends" "Likes" Bacardi, which is nice for "Her." Four of my "Friends" also "Like" something called "Small Business Saturday," which, I suppose, encourages you to shop at small businesses. On Saturday, of course. I guess they can't be Orthodox Jewish businesses.


(That word looks funny. I "Like" it.)

And, speaking of which, I thought I'd present you, gentle reader and undoubted Facebookaholic, a list of things that I "Like."

* Sodium

Seriously. Can't get enough of the shit. I mean, I like sweet things, and chocolatey things, but give me some sausages, bacon, ham (yeah, all on the same plate-- it's fine) homefries, cheeseeggs and I will "Like" the motherfuckin' nitrates out of that. I also like processed soups. And soups that aren't processed, but I don't eat nearly enough of those.

* Ass-Warmers

I know I talk about owning a used Volvo a lot, but, what can I say, I only got it in April, so the novelty's still there. With an unusually chilly November behind us and an equally frigid December kicking our asses, I definitely "Like" my ass ensconsed within an ergonomic, leathery, heated driver's seat. I will be keeping this ass-warmer on all winter, and I hope I don't break it. Because I won't Goddamned well "Like" that.

* T-Shirts with Words, Slogans, or Pictures on Them

They give you a convenient excuse to look at womens' chests. And who doesn't "Like" that?

* Christmas Lights

I know, right? Who the hell doesn't "Like," or even just like, Christmas lights? Well, I really do. When I was a boy, my father used to take us out in the car into the "other" neighborhoods to cruise the streets and gaze at the thousands of lights that studded the homes of Christmas celebrating folk. One winter, I think I was maybe six or seven, I was stricken with a Christmastime ague and a fever of 102. When I heard that my mother forbade me from going out to look at Christmas lights that year, I threw a fucking (O,) holy (night) roller, and my father somehow convinced my mother that it was okay to take me out, provided I was dressed appropriately. Reluctantly, she consented, but only after dressing me in two sweatsuits and wrapping me in the warmest blanket in the house.

I'll never forget, lying down on my back in the back seat of our 1986 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera, staring up and up through the window at all the beautiful lights. They must have looked that much cooler, upside-down and fever-glazed. It was the best Christmas ever, man.

* Lobster Tail

You don't really appreciate how much you "Like" lobster tail until you've tried to eat a whole lobster, at a restaurant, in public, in front of other people. It would maybe be one thing if you rented out the whole place so you could just be there, by yourself, wearing that motherfucking plastic bib, sitting there at a table, all alone, with that big, red, intimidating thing, and you're there clutching some fucking prehistoric, dentist-looking tools, instead of, you know, a knife and fork.

I ate a whole lobster, or tried to, in 2002, and it's probably never going to happen again. I was sweating through my shirt not halfway through the meal. I mean, come on.

* You

Thank you for spending another year with me. Wow. I "Like" you-- like, for real.



  1. I don't get it. So... you had a fever one summer and you hallunicated it was Christmastime, and your father took you out to see lights to feed into the mania?

    Or you had a fever one summer, and your mother forbade you ever go out next winter to see the lights?

    What does summer have to do with it? We all know Jesus was born in the spring. Come on, Mr. Apron!

  2. Um, yeah. I got the season wrong.

    This is what happens when you don't proofread what I right.



Got something to say? Rock on with your badass apron!