I have purged my Facebook successfully of all ridiculous, right wing, conspiracy theory posts. I just don’t see them anymore. I now see all sorts of cute kitty and animal videos.
Now there’s a clickbait gif if I ever saw it. I still get new Facebook friend requests daily from people I don’t know, but it is easy enough to delete those.
I thought Twitter would be better than Facebook. Then I see a tweet like this …
I thought that my family fantasy football team name last week, Blue Waves, would be my last team name and cool looking logo for the season.
My season was over. I have a terrible team. I spent way too much time working on the mid-term election and not enough time on a small, inconsequential, low dollar family fantasy football league. Thanks Obama. I had had some fun poking my Trump-loving family members in the league. They poked back in jest with Trumpy team names of their own. They didn’t understand that there actually was a Blue Wave. One of my nephews named his team the Blue Puddles. Does he not understand basic math concepts of whole numbers and greater than & less than? And then this happened …
I’m on the road again and was surprised when I tried to turn on the light over the sink in my hotel room.
That was Marty Feldman as Igor in the fabulous movie Young Frankenstein. Full disclosure here. After hours of driving, I did not look as good as Marty Feldman did in that movie.
I really looked more like this …
Yesterday, my wife was grousing about not enough grape jelly being left in the jar to make her peanut butter & jelly sandwich. I made the mistake of pointing out that there were other jelly flavors in the refrigerator. I guess “ew” is my wife’s official positions on jelly flavors other than grape. I made the mistake of offering up yet another suggestion, this time to scrape out the grape jelly accumulated right under the rim. Apparently, the under-the-rim jelly is gross, even though it is grape. I pressed my luck and suggested to my wife that she is a food elitist. She mentioned that she is not the person in the house that has eaten from the garbage, not so subtly suggesting that would be me. She’s right about me and garbage food, but I also think she proved my point that she’s the food elitist. Garbage is one of my favorite food groups. “You aren’t going to throw that out” is my favorite line at home. Well, she is at least as much of a food elitist as anyone can be who eats peanut butter & jelly sandwiches.
I killed the blog series I called My Fave Faves as quickly as I started it once I realized that even I didn’t care about what I was writing. But thanks to my oldest son, it is back for a curtain call in a slightly different form. My son is part of creating a music podcast called Ear Buds.
I was featured on the 4th episode with my review of a Dan Auerbach (of the Black Keys) song called King of a One Horse Town. Spoiler Alert: Loved it! If you have iTunes, you can access that podcast through this LINK. Choose podcast #31 (which is really #4) called My Dad Is Not A Twitter Bot and you can access my song review at the 8:10 mark, which also happens to be my son’s name. Mark, not 8:10, although Mark 8:10 sounds very New Testamenty and religious. If you listen to the podcast, you will hear that my reviews were supposed to be a recurring feature. At my son’s request, I did write one more for a Greta Van Fleet song. Never aired. They lied. I’m as upset about that as an old man ordering salad at a restaurant that serves chunkless, runny blue cheese salad dressing. Gross. Gotta’ have chunks.
Recently, my son asked me for 3 to 5 of my favorite all-time albums, and not greatest hits collections. That was not going to be possible. I could not help him out. Why?