With all the
buzz about social media and its influence on our culture, it was time to face
up to Facebook, especially since I read that kids are abandoning it because it
has become popular with their parents. So, I finally opened a Facebook account.
(Actually,
there was an account that bore my name a few years ago, started by some
nefarious students, and I had to threaten Facebook with legal action to get it
taken down.)
Since opening
the account, I have made contact with former friends whom I had not heard from
in 25 or 30 years and have gleaned a lot of news from relatives not normally
heard from.
Then one day
came a suspicious posting: “What’s her face” would like to be your friend.
Along with the request for friendship was a picture of a cute little filly. I
assumed she was a friend of one of my friends, trying to expand her universe of
friends, so I confirmed the request.
The next day,
I got a comment from her, saying she had been impressed with my picture, and
passed on her phone number and email address in case I wanted to talk. This
post raised several red flags.
First, I have to wonder about anyone impressed
with the picture. The picture was taken in Jasper B.C. toward the end of a 30
day motorcycle camping trip from Arkansas to Alaska. It was the look of one having
been chased by a grizzly bear sow bent on committing humanality. Not only that,
it should have been obvious that I was at least 50, maybe 60 years older than
this “friend.” I doubt we would have anything in common to talk about. I
wouldn’t know where to put the “likes” and the “you knows,” so as to sound “cool.”
This had all
the trappings of police entrapment. “You know, like” in those reality TV shows
where the mark shows up for a tryst with a teenager, is met with an
investigative news reporter and “like” ends up being hauled away in handcuffs.
It’s not that
I can’t be tempted, but at 71, I’m not yet old enough to blame lechery on
senility. Besides, I believe the Apostle’s Creed, especially the part which
reads “from whence He will come to judge the quick and the dead.”
I figured I’d
better get rid of this little filly before she and her police handlers had me
in a stable I couldn’t get out of.
With a little
searching, I discovered one of those for me yet unused functions of Facebook,
the icon to “unfriend.” “Cool;” it’s a lot easier than in real life. Goodbye
“what’s her face.”
