What Would I Do Without Social Media? (Humor)

Welcome to my personal social experiment.

I’m trying to keep my social media interactions to just one self-generated post per platform per day.

So far, so okay.

But…what would I do without a constant, unending mainline of social media?

I would, it turns out, utilize my notebook more, write down all of the insightful, philosophical, and/or amusing thoughts that occur, then occasionally consolidate them here.

(So is that what you’re doing?)


  1. My current fame ceiling is: Scott Adams blocked me on Twitter.
  2. On many levels this fact, and the fact that I care about this fact enough to share it, brings me pervasive existential sadness.
  3. What’s a college Republican’s favorite Flock of Seagull’s Song?
  4. And Ayn Ra-aa-aand.  Ayn Rand so far a-way-ay-ay.
  5. What’s the word describing a person so single mindedly contemplating the number between 3 and 5 that they become the number?
  6. Metaphor.
  7. Claus is a Freudian slip come to life.
  8. (If you follow me on Facebook, you’ll likely understand #7.  However, just replace “Claus” with whomever you believe to be a human Freudian slip come to life.  Believe me, you know a few.  You might be one.  Shit.  Maybe we all are.)
  9. I would love to perform the Chicago song, “25 or 6 to 4” interpreted as a dark, acoustic song.  Like a Trent Reznor vibe, a la Johnny Cash singing, “Hurt.”  Like minor as fuck.  Raw.  And on the line, “Twen-ty-five-or-six-to-foh-oh-ohhhhh,” I’d sing a falling run rather than the bright, cheery rising run from the original.  It would scare the shit out of someone.
  10. I would also love to perform the Chicago song, “25 or 6 to 4” like an 80’s emo tune, a la The Smiths or The Cure.  Actually, I’ve got the tune, “Under the Milky Way Tonight” by The Church very clearly in the forefront of my mind thinking about THIS cover.  It would, like the dark, raw, acoustic version, be sung down an octave.  Moody.  Synths, a heavy atmospheric guitar wah-wah vibe, and the stench of clove cigarettes hovering about like a ghost of my undergraduate years.
  11. Instagram should do mammogram filters.  Like, make your tits into fun things.  Mess with the shape and size.  Razzle dazzle areola and whatnot.  I think it should happen.
  12. What happens when you mate Joe Cocker with Bob Dylan and play doo-wop for the incubating baby?
  13. Bruce Springsteen happens.

I anticipate the following additional “What Would I Do Without Social Media?” sub-genres: Philosophy, Politics, Professional.

Stay tuned.


4 thoughts on “What Would I Do Without Social Media? (Humor)”

    1. Oh Christ, Ralph.

      I’ll try to make what amounted to a 1.5 day epic journey into the world of a semi-famous Trumpletongue gaslighter who performs for tens of thousands of fans daily but apparently didn’t know what to do with me into something manageable.

      Patton Oswalt made a comment re: Hurricanes and global warming.

      Scott responded.

      Somehow 538 and Nate Silver slipped in.

      Scott responded some more.

      And it was clear to me that he didn’t understand statistics from…well, it turns out everything else for which he is a know-it-all know-nothing, which along with his moderate fame, 181 thousand Twitter followers (…many of whom are Trumpeters, Men’s Rights Advocates, Alt-Right trolls, and other such deplorables…), and his inherent Narcissism and alpha male insecurity, just slammed into my buttons.

      I responded clearly and directly.

      Scott began to obfuscate.

      I brought it back to the point.

      Scott then brought out the straw men.

      I brought it back to the original point.

      Scott disappeared.

      But eventually he re-entered the thread.

      I reappeared. And reminded him of the first point he’d made. The previous day.

      Then Scott used his alternate burner-account to respond to himself and fight with me, but it was super clear that it was Scott. One follow. Guess who? Scott. No followers. (Well, now me.) And all of not-Scott’s account did was jump in to Scott’s arguments when it was clear Scott needed a life line. From Scott.

      Christ, man. I almost lost my fucking mind.

      But then, Scott blocked me.

      1. Sounds like a Vonnegut or heller like experience. That’s great sit com B story material. (Meanwhile Penny and what’s his face, Ross 2.0, struggle with the tension in their relationship…)

        1. I came out of that interaction with bluster…allowed all of those neurochemicals to play their cruel little games and was super anxious and angry for days. Ended up in a massive, similar, interaction with a German history professor named Claus. That didn’t end well either. It’s just not worth it to expend energy countering gaslighting trollish hyper-masculine personalities.

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