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!