Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Who are you again?

I’ve stocked up on crappy prizes, I’ve put together about 300 questions and answers (the latter more often than not responding to the former), and I’ve printed everything up and placed it next to the actual garbanzos, which means that I’m ready for the grand finale of the season, Bean Trivia, 2013 Spring Edition. I can see the excitement mounting throughout Sailorville.

Meanwhile, I’m slowly plodding my way through my old online materials, punching them up as necessary. As often as not I leave things alone, but occasionally something is really out of date and needs changing. This will hold me for a while, so I won’t get too far out of things during the off-season. I see that many, many teams are gearing up for the finals season, and I don’t want to imply that we are not also doing likewise, but this year it’s our Speecho-Americans who will be on the boards, as our debaters remain too young to pick and therefore need a little more time on the vine. I love reading coaches congratulate their winning teams on Facebook, which I might do too if I were on Facebook more than once a week or so, and then just to read the news and readjust the volume of anyone who posts too much, which is an awful lot of people. FB seems to default to too much information rather than too little, and there are some people for whom FB is the air they breathe. Since I have a fairly non-restrictive approach to FB friendship (I’ll pretty much say yes to anybody but hardly ever reach out myself unless it’s someone I figure I can get to judge for me), there’s a lot of people about whom I am less than thrilled to know what they think about everything ever under the sun. I know that there are others who do want to know this information, possibly because they are enamored of the poster, or maybe they in fact idolize the poster and want to have the poster’s baby. Beats me, because most of what I see there is, in fact, stuff I’d really only want to know about if I wanted to have your baby, and since I don't, it's all sort of meh. Random thoughts about stupid stuff, for instance, is a non-starter. Some folks who are no longer in high school only post pathetic glam pictures of themselves and their friends, which are really depressing and always make me want to comment, “Get a life.” Vicious political rants I rather like, especially if the politics are not mine: I already know what I think, and I enjoy knowing what people who are wrong think. (That’s a joke, son. I’m very Hegelian when it comes to intellectual conflict.) Regular updates on how the world is out to get you are something I can live without, even if I really don’t like you and truly hope that the world is out to get you. And then there’s people who once upon a time must have been remotely familiar, hence I follow them (if they’re also friends with O’C that’s evidence enough that they must be forensic, unless they happen to be from his pool of dish towel collector friends or whoever it is he’s going to Vegas to commune with), but when I look at their pictures or what they’re up to, I am totally baffled.

I just wasn’t made for these times. Obviously I won’t be spending a lot of the off-season hanging out on Facebook.

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