Your Mother Knows About Us

I cannot confirm nor deny holding fake telephone conversations in public spaces nor having done since before my children were born.

Once when my oldest was about three he asked if we could stop at McDonalds. I said no and that it was closed.

My smart boy protested that he saw people inside and so I called Ronald McDonald and asked if they were open.

“Sorry, J, Ronald says they are holding a private party and they are closed to the public. We can’t go.”

The kid made me proud and demanded to speak to Ronald and was disappointed to find out Ronald had hung up.

Not so long ago I found myself in line for an extended period of time and answered a telephone call. I had no intention of keeping it going but noticed a woman nearby had taken interest in what I had to say.

You Miss Talking To Me

I decided to have some fun and ran through some generic stuff and then upped the ante a bit to see if she was getting invested.

“Remember the time we did it on Judy’s porch. It is a good thing she didn’t have a Ring camera or we might be on YouTube. Not sure if we could do it like that again, I don’t think you are as flexible.

I think the reason you are not speaking with me as much is your mother knows about us and she is jealous.”

I heard the kind of noise people make when they are surprised and knew I had hooked someone.

“What can I say, 80 year-old women can’t get enough of me.”

I started laughing because it was ridiculous and then caught my breath and composed myself.

“Hang on a moment, I have to fix my Airpod, it came loose.”

Laughed again because of the ridiculous ease with which this covered my ruse, even muttered “Thank you Steve Jobs” because it fit.

“Ok honey, I know she isn’t jealous. I am just teasing. But I do think you are cautious about getting too close. Too easy to get sucked into our world and yeah, I am a pain-in-the-ass.”

By this point the line had begun moving and I knew I had to wrap things up so I went for the Jerry Springer finale.

“Our biggest problem isn’t that your sister died and left me with the kids. It is the two you and I had together before she died. I think that is where the guilt lies.”

I faked being hung up on because I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and bit my fist. I am pretty sure the woman saw my body shaking but didn’t realize it was with laughter and not tears.

Censored On Facebook

Facebook removed two posts I made about the Jewish Rally for Israel in Washington in November and accused me of posting spam.

I have this sneaking suspicion that they have been throttling my content, but haven’t figured out if it is just some of it or all of it.

I have asked how the crazy bitch boss was treating someone, posted stories from a variety of sources New York Times, Wall Street Journal, LA Times and others and seen little to no response.

I don’t expect huge responses on everything but I have a pretty good feel for what gets a response and what doesn’t. This doesn’t fit because the things I posted about would get a couple of responses at the bare minimum.

It is possible that I am wrong and that my unscientific approach is simply wrong and I might have thought that had I not gotten two messages from Facebook about the post removal.

I think someone is messing with the algorithm or doing something.

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Earlier today I was asked if I was going to let something go or make a pitbull jealous by holding onto it. I smiled and said get used to getting pounded.

I am relentless about the important things but I try to focus it where I can make an impact. I may or may not let the Facebook thing go.

Not sure it makes sense to dig in there but then again I am not sure that I won’t do some digging around and try to test things.

I am guilty of pushing buttons and testing limits.

Can’t rope the moon if you aren’t at least shooting for the stars which reminds me that shooting for the moon might be selling ourselves short.

There might be something better to secure by reaching for the stars than limiting ourselves to the moon, but that is just me.