If Life Were Like Facebook

Tags

Facebook, lee greenwood, president, social media, trump, twitter

My wife woke me Friday morning with her usual greeting.

“You won’t believe what he did now,” she muttered.

Not bothering to answer, I lifted my phone from the bedside table, scrolled through my newsfeed, and found the article that was the source of this morning’s agitation: “Trump Moves Press Corps to White House Basement.”

I re-posted the article on my feed with a one-word introduction: “Ugh.” Then I hit the shower.

The drive to work was predictably slow, as traffic threaded past several rear-end accidents that were likely due to people posting updates and checking their “likes.” Self-driving cars can’t get here soon enough, I thought.

“Trump’s an idiot,” my coworker, Josh, declared as I settled into my office cubicle. “He is a horrible, horrible human being.”

“Yeah, I heard about the press corps,” I replied.

“No,” said Josh, dabbing his nose with a well-worn Kleenex. “I’m talking about the executive order declaring ‘God Bless the U.S.A.’ as the new national anthem.”

“Ridiculous,” agreed Kathryn, popping her head above the cubical wall, wide-eyed as a frightened prairie dog. “This has got to stop. Who voted for this guy?”

“I voted for him,” Adam said, swiveling his chair toward us. “And it’s time for a new anthem. Lee Greenwood has done a hell of a lot more for this country than Francis Scott Key ever did.”

“Great news!” Jenny said as she breezed past our row. “My daughter just got accepted to Stanford!”

“Good for her,” Josh said with a snort. “A college degree will mean a lot when we’re all working the salt mines for the Chinese.”

We went to lunch a little earlier than usual, it being a Friday and all. After posting pics of our entrees on our respective newsfeeds, we returned to lamenting Trump’s latest tweet about election fraud.

“I know, right?” the waitress chirped as she handed us a fresh basket of microwaved cheese bread. “He’s such a psychopath. Shaking my head!”

The afternoon dragged on at work, as it usually does, but I was proud of the 240-word post I wrote about freedom of the press and the looming national tragedy. By the time I left the office, it had garnered 24 “likes,” and seven “loves.”

Glancing down at my phone as I merged onto the highway, I never saw the Peterbilt truck that sideswiped my Prius, sending it rolling over a ditch and into the trees that lined the road.

I woke up hours—maybe days—later, in a hospital room bathed in sunlight.

“You hear what Trump did today?” a nurse asked as she checked my chart.

“I know,” my wife muttered, peering at her phone. “What did we ever do to deserve this crap?”

Stephen Roth is the author of the comic novel A Plot for Pridemore, which won the 2012 Ferrol Sams Award for Fiction.

Trump’s First Tweets as President

Tags

obama, pence, president, trump, twitter

3:21 a.m., Jan 21 – So proud 2 be POTUS and lead this really, really great country of ours. Inauguration balls were phenomenal. Really wish Melania was here.

3:24 a.m. Jan 21 – Time for bed. Busy day tomorrow. We are going to get so much done. Good night, America!

7:36 a.m. Jan 21 – Very nasty editorial in the failing NYTimes today about my speech. WashPost no better. Nobody reads newspapers anyway.

7:57 a.m. Jan 21 – Really, really disappointed in CNN’s lies. We are going to do a number on them.

8:34 a.m. Jan 21 – Working very, very hard this morning!

9:23 a.m. Jan 21 – Just back from 1st security briefing as POTUS. Things worse than expected. Thank you, Obama!

9:34 a.m. Jan 21 – You would not believe what they tell POTUS in these security meetings. Sworn to secrecy, but you would not believe what they tell me.

9:39 a.m. Jan 21 – BTW, that Area 51 thing. Totally true!

9:45 a.m. Jan 21 – JFK assassination very interesting. Can’t say much, but do not believe what you have been taught in history class! #publicschoolsfail

9:51 a.m. Jan 21 – Also, Nixon may have been gay. Still a great president!

10:10 a.m. Jan 21 – First executive order! Rezoning land in Palm Springs for Trump Pacifica Hotel. Creating jobs for SoCal economy. More 2 come!

10:15 a.m. Jan 21 – Still thinking about security briefing. Tough times, but you are in good hands, America!

10:45 a.m. Jan 21 – Secret service wants my Android and Twitter account password. Never!

10:50 a.m. Jan 21 – VP Pence very annoyed with me. Such a good man. Hate when he gets angry. @realDonaldTrump going offline for now.

The Social Media Activist

Tags

activism, election, Facebook, politics, social media, twitter

He’s the first one to post
when things couldn’t be worse.
A riot, the government,
the Billy Goat Curse.

He trolls through the Web
With justice in mind.
Writing words that are true,
But not terribly kind.

When he’s really annoyed,
he might go on a screed
about late-term abortions
or the music of Creed.

He’s the friend whom you never
would dare to unfriend.
For you know that he’d notice,
and then angrily send
you a message that asks
why you’d ever take issue
at his meme about guns.
Should he fetch you a tissue?

He’s the social media activist.

And then there are moments
that touch everyone’s heart,
A shooting, a court case,
Someone’s life ripped apart.

At that very moment,
He will rush to his Dell
And alter his profile pic
to show he means well.

It’s the least he can do
as a person who cares
about big events
that score “likes” and “shares.”

He’s the social media activist.

And every four years
when they have an election,
he’ll post all day long
about his selection.

He’ll share lots of click-bait,
some of it true,
about his opponents
And bad things that they do.

Crowding out all the posts
about babies and kittens,
and marriage announcements,
and warm, woolen mittens.

It’s kind of turned into his calling,
you see.
When he’s not stuck at work
or home watching TV.

He’s there to remind us
of terrible stuff
that will or may happen,
of how life can be tough.

And I think he’s succeeded
to an alarming extent
at making Facebook and Twitter
great places to vent.

He’s the social media activist.

Donald Trump’s Big Red Book of History

Tags

donald trump, george washington, gorbachev, history, revolutionary war, ronald reagan, soviet union, stalin

NEW YORK, NY (Aug. 25, 2016)–Less than 80 days before the 2016 presidential election, Donald Trump has announced the publication of a new book, The Trump Big Red Book of History.

At a press conference Thursday inside the Trump Tower, Trump praised the new book as “an inside look” and “the real story” about the history of Western Civilization. Unlike previous books published by the presidential candidate and real estate billionaire, Trump said he did not use a ghost writer, noting that he didn’t need one and did not want to share royalties that he expects will be “huge.”

Trump added that he has been working on the book for years and that the publication date has nothing to do with his bid for the White House.

“They say that history books are written by the winners, and that’s very, very true,” Trump said. “Look, I’m a winner. I’ve always been a winner. And so I wrote a history book.”

Below are three exclusive excerpts from Trump’s new book, which can be purchased at Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com beginning next week:

The Revolutionary War

One thing about America, one thing that made us so, so great, was that we didn’t take crap from anybody. King George—you know about him? He was the ultimate insider. He didn’t just benefit from the system, he was the system. That’s how they did things back then, with kings and queens and the Earl of Sandwich and all. They controlled everything, and everyone.

And, you know what King George did? He did what they all do. He did what Hillary wants to do if she becomes president. He raised the people’s taxes. But Americans in those days wouldn’t stand for it. They didn’t take anything lying down. They got together and they wrote up this document called the Declaration of Independence. It’s a beautiful, beautiful document. It’s my favorite thing to read, right behind the Bible.

So George Washington got on a ship to take this Declaration of Independence to King George, because in those days there was no such thing as Next Day Air. And as Washington was leaving Boston Harbor, he saw these guys dressed up like Indians dumping boxes of tea into the water. And he smiled a big smile. Do you know why? Because George Washington knew right then that we were gonna win the war. Because nobody tells Americans what to do. At least not back when we were great.

The Soviet Union in World War II

Stalin was a bad guy, okay? A bad, bad guy. Nobody’s arguing that. But you know what Stalin did really well? Do you know what he did better than almost anybody else? He never gave up. He was tough! He was a very tough guy. Even when the Germans were knocking on the door of the Kremlin back in 1940-whatever-it-was, Stalin said, “You people are completely out of line. We’re gonna push you back across the border where you belong!”

Another thing about Stalin was he was extremely competitive. No one got the best of Stalin. He looked at Hitler and he said, “Oh, you’re gonna kill six million people? Well, guess what? I already killed 10 million people!” That was Stalin for you. Always competing.

And you know what they did after Stalin died, in his honor? They went into Berlin and they built a wall. And you know something else? They made the Germans pay for it.

The Reagan Revolution

Speaking of walls, here’s a guy who liked to tear walls down. And you know what? He tore down walls very, very well.

Of course, he had a little help.

In the 1980s, when my net worth was only somewhere around $500 million, I met President Reagan in the White House. He didn’t have to meet with me, but he did. He was a very gracious man, and very bright. He looked great in a navy blue suit! Just being around this guy, you could tell he was going to do big, big things with this country.

We started talking about Russia. And I said, “you know, Mr. President, the Russians have a lot of natural resources. Lots of oil, lots of coal, and I’m sure they have other things. They’re tough negotiators, but they could be wonderful business partners, especially with the right guy in charge.”

Reagan nodded, the way he always did. He seemed to be in deep thought. Then he spoke.

“They got a new guy in there, you know,” he told me. “Seems like a sharp guy. You think I should give him a call?”

The guy was Gorbachev, of course. And I told the president, “that’s exactly what you should do. Make the call. Make the first move. Get leverage. Keep him on his heels.”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Your Password Has Expired

Tags

death, drops of jupiter, gmail, God, heaven, hell, humor, life, observations, pearly gates, satire, st. peter, timberland, train

Dale followed the light, which is what they always say you should do. His body was catapulted into some kind of cosmic vortex, where he floated around for what seemed like days.

Finally, he landed, his Timberland work boots touching a marble floor. Up ahead were six massive, ivory columns that reached into the clouds. A man with a long, white beard and a flowing gown approached him, and smiled. Dale knew he must be St. Peter.

“Hello, Dale,” he said. “We’re glad to have you.”

Dale nodded and blinked. Everything was very bright up here in the clouds.

“Just go over to one of the kiosks and sign yourself in,” St. Peter advised, extending a cloaked arm toward a battery of silver-plated work stations with glowing LED screens.

Dale walked to one of the kiosks and typed in his name.

“Do you have your confirmation number?”

“My what?”

“You need a confirmation number,” St. Peter said. “We sent it to you in a text message before you arrived. Do you have your phone?”

“Why would I have my phone?” Dale asked.

St. Peter shook his head. “People usually bring their phones. It’s okay. Let me help you.”

The apostle walked to the kiosk and moved his pale, perfectly manicured fingers across the screen.

“Can’t you just let me in?” Dale asked. “You obviously know who I am.”

“I do?”

“You called me by name when I got here.”

St. Peter looked at him dubiously. “That’s because it’s on your shirt.”

Dale looked down at the ironed patch on the left breast of his shirt. Dale had forgotten he was at work when the end came. His last conscious memory was scrambling across the floor, crab-like, as the underbelly of a Toyota Prius tumbled over him.

St. Peter squinted at the kiosk screen. “We just upgraded to a new system,” he explained. “To say that it has a few bugs would be a bit of an understatement.”

Dale nodded. He was extremely tired.

“What’s your gmail address and password?” the saint asked. “That might do the trick.”

Dale tried to remember his password. He gave St. Peter a combination of his first pet’s name and the year he graduated from high school. It didn’t work. Dale gave him the name of his first girlfriend and the year he lost his virginity. Still no luck.

“Cheese and rice! This new system! I wish I could just wave you through, but I can’t,” St. Peter said. “Look, it’s getting late, and you’re exhausted. I’m going to book you a night at a place near here, and we’ll try this again tomorrow. Sound good?”

St. Peter reached into his gown and pulled out an Android phone. He made the arrangements. Dale checked into the Pearly Gates Lodge, which billed itself as “The Closest Thing to Heaven.” The bed was rock-hard and the remote control didn’t work, but he was too tired to care. The breakfast buffet the next morning was pretty good, although the eggs were a little runny for Dale’s liking.

“Hello, Dale,” St. Peter said, glancing at his shirt. “We’re glad to have you.”

“I was here yesterday. I remembered my gmail password.”

“Very good. Let’s give it a try.”

They walked to the nearest kiosk. The password had come to Dale as he awoke that morning on the rock-hard motel mattress. FairLane#1968—it was the model and year of his first car.

“Oh, heavens,” St. Peter said, after keying in the password three times. “Not good. Not good at all.”

“What is it?”

“It says, ‘your password has expired.’”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Dale stood, a hand propped on his hip as St. Peter swiped through several brightly colored pages on the kiosk screen. Dale looked around. It seemed odd that he and St. Peter were the only two people at the entrance to Heaven. He crossed his arms and listened to a familiar melody playing softly over the PA system. After a moment or two, he identified the song as “Drops of Jupiter,” by Train.

“So, what’s Hell like?” Dale asked.

“Hell?” St. Peter said, still staring at the screen. “Oh, it’s a mess, total chaos. They run things on a paper-based system. It’s like being in the 1970s all over again.”

“Yeah?”

“The bars down there are all open until two in the morning, though. People need to self-medicate, you know, to deal with all the inefficiencies of being in Hell.”

“Sounds like my kind of place,” Dale said. “How do I get there?”

“The saint gave him a disapproving look. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I think I’d like to give it a try,” Dale said.

“Well, there’s no easy way to transfer you. If you’re really serious about going to Hell, you’ll have to fill out a few forms. It could take weeks to sort everything out.”

Dale pivoted on the heel of his boot and gave St. Peter a wave as he walked toward the gold-hued cumulonimbus clouds.

“No thanks,” Dale said. “I’ll figure out a way down there myself.”

10 Signs That You Have a Really Annoying Cube-Mate

Tags

annoying, coworkers, cube-mate, humor, office, pop culture, Stephen Roth, workplace

In this world, you don’t get to pick your family—and you almost never get to choose which co-worker sits next to you in the office.

Here are some clear warning signs that you and your assigned cube-mate—the individual who spends more time with you each week than anyone else—may not be compatible:

• Your cube-mate is in sales, and his “phone voice” is about two decibels louder than the drunk who sat behind you that one time at the hockey game.
• Your cube-mate likes to slurp reheated Lo Mein and cackle at YouTube videos during the lunch hour.
• “You got a second?” is the verbal cue that your cube-mate is about to ask you for some marriage advice.
• Your cube-mate is an accomplished whistler of 1970s light-rock hits.
• When you ask your cube-mate to stop whistling, he switches to humming—usually “Can We Still Be Friends?” by Todd Rundgren.
• You never want to borrow your cube-mate’s pens, because those are what he uses to dig the excess wax from his ears.
• Your cube-mate checks his 401(k) balance daily, and loudly threatens to sell that crappy international fund they’ve got him in.
• Your cube-mate’s love for every episode of Seinfeld is second only to his love for the New England Patriots.
• It is well-known throughout the office that your cube-mate does not wash his hands after using the bathroom.
• After checking Donald Trump’s poll numbers for the day, your cube-mate taunts you by asking “Are you worried yet? Are you worried yet?”

Revisionist History: Trump in Gettysburg

Tags

1863, civil war, donald trump, gettysburg, gettysburg address, history, humor, lincoln, politics, satire, Stephen Roth

On the afternoon of November 19, 1863, Donald Trump stepped off the train in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, to deliver what would become one of the best-known speeches in American history. There to dedicate the Soldier’s National Cemetery just a few months after Union armies defeated Confederate forces in the nation’s bloodiest battle, the President approached the podium, unbuttoned his grey overcoat and removed an iPad mini, on which he had jotted a few “appropriate words” to honor the fallen.

Here is what the president said:

“This is really beautiful, really fantastic… What a crowd! What a crowd!

Eighty-some-odd years ago—I’m thinking 85, but it might have been longer than that. Anyway, a long, long time ago, some very great men got together and they formed the most powerful nation ever known in the history of the world. This nation was so great, nobody had ever seen anything like it. And you know what made it so great? Top-notch people, for one thing. The very best and brightest. Just fabulous, first-rate people. Also, freedom and this idea that everyone was equal. Even the lowliest street sweeper—some filthy guy who probably made in six weeks what I spent on my last haircut—was every bit as important as a very successful businessman with a huge, diversified real estate portfolio. This was the kind of thinking that made this nation so, so great.

Anyway, now we’re in a civil war, right? And not just any war, but the biggest, bloodiest war ever known to man, because this is the American Civil War. And, as you know, Americans don’t do anything half-assed. I wasn’t here back in July, but I understand this place was a real mess. Bunch of bombs going off, mutilated bodies all over place. Just a major, major battle. A real hell-hole, they tell me. That’s why I’m here today—to honor the dead and, you know, thank them for their service.

You know, I was thinking on the train how, even though these men lost their lives, they’re actually winners. Real winners. Because what they did here at Gettysburg really set the tone. We’ve had so many good things happen in the last few months, it’s been actually amazing. Did you see what Grant did to them at Vicksburg? Did you see that? We’ve got full control of the Mississippi now, which is huge. And we’ve got some plans for those Confederates next year. I don’t wanna to give too much away, but let’s just say it’s gonna be a very hot summer next year in Georgia. A very long, hot summer.

Look, I gotta go. You people have been outstanding. Southern Pennsylvania is a fabulous place. Let me just close by saying these lives were not lost in vain. We’re gonna take Richmond next year. W’re gonna take our country back, folks. We’re gonna remind them why government of the people, by the people, is the best way to do things. Because it’s the American way. Thank you, and God bless.”

You Have No Idea

Tags

awkward photos, cats, internet, media, pet photos

You have no idea how demeaning this is for both of us.

How, after 12 years, our companionship is now winnowed
down to one ill-advised portrait for all the World Wide Web to ridicule.

We have both seen better days.

Your eyes bear the toll of three failed marriages, two home foreclosures,
and countless hours of screeching at The Real Housewives of Orange County.
My girth betrays Fancy Feasts, Friskies, and full days sunning myself
beneath the bay window of our townhouse apartment.

“C’mon, Winston!” you bellowed, gathering me in your arms to pose before the camera carefully placed atop the liquor cabinet. “Don’t you want to get famous?”

I didn’t, but now I am, in a perverse kind of way.

At least smile, dammit, if you’re going to expose us like this.

Your Official Drinking Game for the 2016 Super Bowl

Tags

beyonce, bud bowl, carolina panthers, coldplay, denver broncos, national football league, NFL, peyton manning, roger goodell, Super Bowl

• For each player who has been arrested on the night before the big game, take a drink.

• For each shot of a head coach pacing the sidelines in his officially licensed team gear, headphones and haircut, take a drink.

• For every mention of “The coveted Lombardi Trophy,” take a drink.

• Each time a beer commercial features an adult male getting hurt or humiliated, take a drink.

• When the camera pans in on a pale, grey-haired team owner and his trophy wife peering down at the game from their luxury box, take a drink.

• When the camera shows Roger Goodell in his luxury box, take a drink, take a knee and say a quick prayer thanking your Creator that you have year-round media coverage of the NFL to look forward to for the rest of your life.

• Each time the announcers speculate on whether or not this will be Peyton Manning’s final game, take a drink.

• Take a drink each time Peyton Manning cries out “Omaha!”

• Take a drink each time Peyton Manning throws an interception. Take two drinks if it is a “pick-six.”

• Whenever the color analyst mentions “good penetration,” “red zone,” or “taking it to the hole,” take a drink and exchange a knowing smirk with your significant other.

• For every commercial featuring horses, babies or puppy dogs, take a drink and keep a Kleenex handy to dab the grateful tears from your eyes.

• This year’s halftime entertainment will be Coldplay, Beyonce, and a “special guest.” If that secret performer turns out to be U2, slam the rest of your drink. If it turns out to be Taylor Swift, slam your drink and the drink of the person sitting next to you.

• For every commercial making a “statement” about a Serious National Concern like child obesity or rickets or binge drinking, take a drink and complain about how you don’t need to be reminded of this shit during the Super Bowl.

• Take a drink each time someone in the room reminisces fondly about the Bud Bowl.

• When the celebratory cooler of Gatorade is dumped on the winning head coach, take one drink if the liquid looks orange, and two drinks if it has more of a reddish tint.

• After the game and the locker room interviews and the post-game analysis, take two Advils and maybe take a walk around your neighborhood in the brisk night air. Tomorrow’s a working day, and you’ve got to be up by six in the morning.

Want More Readers? Write Something Negative.

Tags

blogging, Facebook, negativity, social media, Stephen Roth, sucks

I have been blogging for more than two years now. I have written about a wide range of topics, from pop culture to politics to parenthood. Most of my posts garner a handful of views, a couple of “likes,” and are then forgotten. I’m good with that. The Internet provides us with a seemingly infinite number of new reading options every day, and I am grateful to the people who take a couple of minutes to read my work.

There is one post I have written, however, that continues to draw more and more readers, even though it was published seven months ago. The post is titled “10 Amazing Reasons Why Facebook Sucks.” Last year, the post had 1,512 views (by comparison, my second most popular post had 187 views). This year, just a little more than two months into 2015, my screed about the annoying facets of Facebook has already been viewed a whopping 2,518 times. On average, more than 40 people find “10 Amazing Reasons Why Facebook Sucks” and click on it every day.

Why is this particular essay so much more popular than all the others? Good question. The main reason is a little something called search engine optimization. If you go to Google’s search engine and type the words, “Facebook sucks,” or “why Facebook sucks,” my post is the second article that appears on the first search page you see (a much more crass article on Cracked.com titled, “Why Facebook Sucks” appears at the top of the page).

Apparently, a lot of people around the world conduct Google searches with the words “Facebook sucks” every day. Some of these people click on my post, glance at it and, in most cases, immediately leave my blog. Today, according to WordPress, my post has been visited by people in India, Germany, Romania, Slovenia and Singapore. The Internet is a wonderful thing, bringing all of us together to share in our universal frustration – and obsession – with social media.

So, if you’re a new blogger who is struggling to write that one post that will generate thousands of views (and exactly $0.00 in revenue), my advice would be to write something that has a title with the word “suck” in it. “Why the Yankees Suck,” “What Sucks About 50 Shades of Grey,” “Winter Sucks.” The topic does not really matter, as long as it’s about something for which a large swath of the population shares a deep, abiding distaste.

Sad to say, but these are the cynical, snarky Internet times we live in. A lot of the posts I write are positive. Okay, some of the posts I write are positive. Not long ago, I wrote a loving little essay about our dog on her 10th birthday. People love dogs, right? That post earned 52 views last year. Exactly one person clicked on it in 2015. Again, I’m fine with that, but maybe I should have included more photos of the dog, particularly when she was a puppy?

I’m going to try to be a more positive, upbeat blogger in 2015, but please don’t fault me if a certain four-letter word that begins with an “s” and ends with a “k” works its way into my prose.

Gotta try to keep my numbers up.

Stephen Roth is the author of the humorous novel, A Plot for Pridemore.

Be sure to “like” his author fan page at https://www.facebook.com/StephenRothWriter