I enjoy Facebook. I don’t post a lot of stuff. You wouldn’t want me to. Once in awhile I’ll post something the grandkids did. Not too often. I’m selfish and want to keep them for myself. Once in awhile I’ll post a recipe that I want to keep on my homepage. Not a lot of stuff. You don’t need my junk.
Many mornings I spend the hours before daylight unfriending people that have posted something that offended my gentle nature. I enjoy that. It makes me feel powerful.
Now, there are many people that think the Internet and social media are responsible for the dumbing down of America. After yesterday, I tend to agree.
I guess I had better start at the beginning. TV has gotten dumber. The reality shows, the sitcoms, and even the movies. We don’t have Gunsmoke, Bonanza, or Walt Disney on Sunday evenings. Movies are Rocky 1 through 18. Terminator 1-7. And now there is a new Jurassic.
Yesterday morning someone posted on Facebook that Andy Griffith had died. Damn. I really felt bad. It ruined my whole day. What is Opie going to do? I moped around all day. Andy was gone. Hoss and Little Joe. Ben Cartwright. Even Bugs Bunny and Wile. E. Coyote had succumbed to Spongebob Squarepants and some other nonsense.
I did chores with a tear in my eye. I gave my horses an extra bait of oats and thought how many kids will never know the Lone Ranger song. Rawhide. And Bonanza. Who will teach kids what is right?
Towards evening I went up to a local establishment to visit with a couple friends. As the conversation was light and amiable, I thought I had better bring this frivolous group back to reality.
As they were laughing and joking and talking about baseball, golf, and the weather, I interrupted them. “Andy died this morning.”
“Who,” they asked?
“For cripes sake,” one of them said. “He’s been dead for five years.”
It’s hell to get old. You forget things. But it was still a bad deal.
It’s better to be young.
Jen had the grandkids out at the beach on Patterson Lake a week ago. It was hot, muggy, and crowded.
Next to her and the five kids was another group that was a little rowdy. And the language was rough and offensive to many.
Even RJ, who is seven, noticed.
He came over to his mother and whispered, “Mom, that guy over there keeps saying bad words, and he’s not even chasing cows!”
You have to love a young cowboy!