Facebooking
My friend, Mr. Mountain Dew, is slow to adopt new forms of communication: he was one of the last of my friends to use instant messenger or get a mobile phone. Just about everyone on the planet has a cell phone. I see toddlers playing with plastic toy phones, and elementary school kids talking and texting on their smartphones. I’m always tempted to warn parents about the energy waves emitted by cell phones and other wireless devices and how they may be hazards to human health, especially to children whose brains are still vulnerable, but since the technology is too recent for long-term studies I can’t say for certain. But don’t claim I didn’t warn you: in twenty years, everyone will have a big, sexy brain tumor.
Up until a month ago, Mr. Mountain Dew did not have a Facebook account, either. But we had made a deal that when my book published, he would join so that he could be my Fan. It didn’t take long for numerous friends to post messages on his wall, like, “Good to know you’re still alive,” and, “Finally! Welcome to 2003.”
When I talked to him on our radiation devices a couple weeks ago he said, “Is there any way to turn off these e-mail notices?” I’m sure there is, Mr. Mountain Dew, but it would be far more amusing to see your inbox (and head) explode. So, to all my blog readers who recognize who Mr. Mountain Dew is: unleash the madness with messages, wall posts, and especially Farmville requests.
Although one-thirteenth of the planet has a Facebook account, Mr. Mountain Dew’s younger brother still isn’t a member. I amended this by making a deal with him: he joins after Facebook reaches one billion users. At that point Facebook may be the only way humans communicate with one another. Our brand-spanking-new brain tumors will develop ESP, and they will warn us about the aliens that have come to Earth to abduct Mark Zuckerberg and annihilate the rest of us. I wouldn’t want Lil Mr. Mountain Dew to miss the message.
Up until a month ago, Mr. Mountain Dew did not have a Facebook account, either. But we had made a deal that when my book published, he would join so that he could be my Fan. It didn’t take long for numerous friends to post messages on his wall, like, “Good to know you’re still alive,” and, “Finally! Welcome to 2003.”
When I talked to him on our radiation devices a couple weeks ago he said, “Is there any way to turn off these e-mail notices?” I’m sure there is, Mr. Mountain Dew, but it would be far more amusing to see your inbox (and head) explode. So, to all my blog readers who recognize who Mr. Mountain Dew is: unleash the madness with messages, wall posts, and especially Farmville requests.
Although one-thirteenth of the planet has a Facebook account, Mr. Mountain Dew’s younger brother still isn’t a member. I amended this by making a deal with him: he joins after Facebook reaches one billion users. At that point Facebook may be the only way humans communicate with one another. Our brand-spanking-new brain tumors will develop ESP, and they will warn us about the aliens that have come to Earth to abduct Mark Zuckerberg and annihilate the rest of us. I wouldn’t want Lil Mr. Mountain Dew to miss the message.