The West Virginia Surf Report!

I Know We’re Not Supposed To Say Things Like This, But Enough With All The Prince Coverage

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I mean, I liked Prince too. You know, kinda-sorta. I saw him in concert twice, and own quite a few of his albums. But, enough is enough. We officially reached a saturation point on this deal sometime Saturday afternoon, according to my super-calibrated annoyance meter. It’s now time to start backing off. Right?

I blame Facebook. In fact, I blame Facebook for a lot of things. I believe it’s ruined the world in certain ways. Everybody’s a show-off now, doing some kind of weird and pathetic performance art. The same thing happened when David Bowie died. Everybody was in a race to out-grieve each other:

“When I heard Bowie died, I couldn’t stop crying for a solid hour…”

“That’s nothing. When I heard Bowie died I cried for three days.”

“Well, you must not be as big a fan as I am. ‘Cause when I heard Bowie died I had to take a leave of absence from my job, and check into a mental institution in upstate New York.”

If I spend more than five minutes on Facebook I find myself rolling my eyes and grinding my molars. Holy shitballs, people. Dial it back on the drama and hyperbole, already.

“I want to wish my beautiful wife Justine a happy birthday. You’re the love of my life, darling. The light in my darkness, blah blah blah blah.” WTF, man? Are you familiar with the word ‘dignity?’ If you want to wish Justine a happy birthday, tell her. She lives in the same house as you. She’s probably sitting right there. Just do a quarter-turn of your torso, and lay it on her.

“Requesting prayers for my favorite uncle Walt, who is going into surgery today to have his entire scrotum removed…” Nobody knows who this Walt is, and we have no investment in his pending sackectomy. But, it doesn’t stop the automatic replies: “Prayers going up!” The whole ritual causes my jaws to tighten. Notice how nobody ever follows up on Walt’s recovery?

“Seventeen years ago today, on a cold and rainy Thursday afternoon, our family was made complete when a 7 lb., 6 oz. bundle of joy arrived…” Oh, blow it straight out your ass. Could you be more dramatic? I do, however, appreciate the weather information. It’s always a nice touch. Then, near the end of these long, sappy abominations: “Happy birthday, sweetie. You make us proud every day. You’ve grown into a strong independent young lady who will continue to amaze and dazzle… ” Dear God in heaven. Could somebody please pass me the vomit bucket?

Man, I’m getting all worked up here. Yes, I was shocked to learn about Prince’s death, like everybody else. And I liked him. You know, somewhat. But we’re going into Day Six at this point. It’s too much. My meters are telling me it was a Three Day death. It’s not just Facebook, either. Although, I think it sets the national tone. It’s also on every TV newscast, and on the radio. We probably didn’t mourn JFK this fervently.

What is going on?! Why so much drama, and emotion? Why is everybody so super-sensitive, and wracked with anxiety, etc.? Everybody’s crying all the time… fighting to hold back tears on TV. Men, included. In fact, it feels like men do it more than women now. It’s amazing. I long for the days when it was disgraceful to cry in public.

Sheesh. This wasn’t how this update was supposed to go. Oh well. I’m calling it a day here. Speaking of crying… it’s time to go back to work.

I’ll see you guys again on Thursday.

Have a great day!

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Comments

  1. I can follow up on Uncle Walt’s surgery. He’s fine, he got a second opinion and retained his scrotum I’m happy to say.

  2. I agree. Too much BS. I recall liking Purple Rain back in the day. That’s it really. To me he was not all that – but now all of a sudden he seems to be the greatest ever.

  3. Seems like we’re brushing up against “old man yells at cloud” territory here.

  4. I am still to deliriously upset about Phil Collins’ death to even write about it. Sorry, that was supposed to be ‘Prince’, not Mr Collins.

  5. I donated my scrotum to poor Uncle Walt. Please send prayers up for my scrotumless self.

  7. I was never that impressed with Prince. Needless to say, the multi-day mourning is getting old.

  8. I believe we’ve just witnessed the first use of “fervently” in all of W.V. Surfdom. Nice job, Mr. Kay!

  9. Good Afternoon Surf Reporters…

    I wonder if Prince left his scrotum to science?
    And in reference to all the Facebook postings with the drama and histrionics; that’s the exact reason why I’m not on Facebook. ’nuff said

    • Who would you like to see go down in the next big air disaster?

      “People who write “’nuff said” at the bottom of notes, as if they’ve just summed it all up.” – Jeff Kay

      • But… I thought I did pretty much sum it all up. And I forgot about “nuff said” being one of Jeff’s triggers.

  11. I’ve often rolled my eyes at people wishing so & so happy birthday in heaven. Do you think they’re checking their facebook account in heaven? Did so & so even have a facebook account?
    I’ll admit that I’ve tried to rally friends together to support our friends that was in serious trouble…spreading the word because everyone was asking for updates, etc. Most of what I felt, though, was left off of facebook.

  12. Everyone you know was a huge prince fan except they haven’t talked about him since the 90s.

  13. I am certain that my father and uncles who lived in a much different era are doing push ups in the graves!

  14. Think you should cut the world a bit of slack on this one, as Prince’s death was so unexpected, it needed a little extra time. Now Facebook – these people with the daily “words to live by” can go stick it. Ever notice how the most messed-up people are the ones posting this shit? How about you just read it to yourself and skip posting; I don’t need to be lectured by you.

    • In a restaurant. Just almost choked on a bean sprouts laughing. (At this comment. Although the bean sprouts was terrifically funny too!

  16. I came back from lunch and some lady yelled out “Oh My God! Prince died” and of course I was shocked. A 57 year old man just doesn’t usually up and die. But then, when the Percocet addiction came to light, I thought “Here we go – hailing a basic drug addict.” – same shit with Michael Jackson. If you pollute your body like that year in and year out, it’s going to take a toll. So my annoyance factor probably kicked in around the same time Jeff’s did.

    Don’t even get me started on Facebook. Waste of time for all the people so in live with themselves makes me want to retch.

    • Yeah, but by that logic, Mike Bloomfield’s death was just a sneeze in the wind, rather than the loss of a man who still had some notes to play. It’s pretty easy to feel superior to someone who’s habituated to a drug we’ve decided is socially inappropriate — especially after our third martini.

      Not starting a fight; just asking for understanding.

      John

      • Read an article about Joe Walsh and his sobriety. Said he freaked when it dawned on him he would have to learn to play guitar sober!! Booze, pills its all self medicating.

      • No fights, jtb! I had that coming. I’ve been unusually bitter lately due to the new job that is causing way too much stress. I guess I just meant it’s a needless shame that he died that way.

        By the way, I hate martinis!

        • Madz,

          I’m so sorry about the job. I hope you can find a place where you can be appreciated for your professional skills, your improv skills, and your obvious writing skills.

          And I don’t entirely disagree with you about the drugs. Unfortunately, the very process of becoming wealthy and famous for musical prowess creates a situation in which there is rarely anybody around who can tell the “star” NO. Just a posse of yes-men and women who tell, Prince or Dylan or Michael Jackson exactly what they want to hear instead of what they NEED to hear. On the other hand, Jerry Garcia had a few people in his life who were willing to tell him the truth. They finally got him into rehab, and he died the next day. The whole thing seems like such a waste, and I know that’s what you were decrying in your comment.

          I guess we’ll know when you’ve gone around the bend in your job: when you start guzzling martinis, it’s probably time to move on.

          John

  19. In The Air Tonight was pretty good. Aside from that, he was better off just sitting behind the kit whacking his tom. Still, any man’s death diminishes me, and he was 11 months younger than me: a mere chickling.

    jtb

    • I prefer the term “Whacking his John-Thomas”.. Sounds more British to me for some reason.

      • Speaking of Toms and Johns … having a Tommy John surgery. WTF!! Friends kid had it and they were bragging!! My first thought was “wonder how he hurt his dick playing baseball”?

        • Play with no cup and you’ll look meaner,
          It’s all fun and games ’till you damage your wiener.

          jtb

  21. I can’t watch the news. They talk every event to death. At least I can scroll and block on Facebook.

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