The Junk Box

Putting My Feet In The Dirt August Prompt#10: Jumbled Like Jenga

Photo A.M Moscoso

Some of my friends ( in Facebook World ) are insisting that they only want to see and post about beautiful thoughts and lovely pictures of Sunsets and lovely blissful drives through the suburbs and stories about delicious meals that they’ve gone out and enjoyed and the cutsie masks that they wore.

No talk about politics. No Talk about the Coronavirus. The idea is that if we think beautiful thoughts, the world will be a beautiful place.

Reality be damned! They’re building this beautiful world of theirs on line picture by picture and post to post and don’t you DARE say it isn’t so.

Well, I’ll damned well say it ISN’T a beautiful place right now. There a beautiful moments but that’s not the same.

My life isn’t a beautiful montage of pictures and song and no matter how much and how hard I say it is on social media.

My life is disjointed. My life- the one where I went to museums, the symphony, to dogparks and on crowded trains and buses to work or to play or to visit my friends and family is gone.

Well, it’s not gone, it’s in a jumble.

If I had to describe my life, I would say it’s like looking into that box in your hall closet or garage that you’ve thrown stuff into over the years and one day you open it up ( because it’s in the way or you’re looking for something else ) and look inside of it and you say, ” What the Hell? Where did this stuff come from?”

Below is a taste of my day to day world.

Sticker bushes that line the freeways and railroad tracks, construction sites and facemasks and everyday I am out there I am thinking, ” Is this the day I get sick? Is this the day I make someone else sick? Was the world always this gritty and smelly and were the colors always this dull?

Yep.

That’s my world now and all the wishful thinking and pretty pictures and happy thoughts and clever memes won’t be changing that matter how hard I try and how many times I bash my head into those Sunny, Happy, Facebook Walls.

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso
Photo A.M. Moscoso
Photo A.M Moscoso

Let’s Talk About My Facebook Page

Word Of The Day: Conversation

Photo by Negative Space on Pexels.com

I don’t have a lot of friends on Facebook- in addition to that I don’t get a lot of likes or comments unless I post pictures of my dog ( and I don’t get enough of those as far as I’m concerned because my dog is PAWESOME ) oh and if I do that thing where I post pictures of my food- those get a lot of’ likes’ and I still haven’t figured out why that happens, I mean it’s just food on a plate and most of the time I it’s microwaved, but whatever.

I do get drama sometimes. Every once and awhile one of my ‘friends’ torch my posts because I hate Trump and I didn’t like Bernie Sanders- and when I pointed out that both Trump and Bernie’s supporters flame me with the same kinds insults and blinding hatred, that would light my feed up.

Then I put those Trump Supporters and Bernie Supporters in time out and all they see are links to my blog posts. I sort of enjoy doing that but wish I could tell them they’re in Time Out together because I’d bet they’d try to kill each other- you know the way Betta fish do when they as much see each other in separate tanks or their own reflections.

But the one thing I do enjoy about Facebook- is finding the cover picture and profile picture.

I’m proud of my recent effort.

It features New Zealand’s Swim Reaper floating in a pool telling you to stay at home so that you don’t accidently kill somebody with the Coronavirus.

My Profile Picture

I feel like I did something worthwhile with this particular post- I’m not sure who would find it so except for me and my dog ( like I said he is the BEST ) but does it matter when it comes to FB

I think FB posts are like Graffiti For Your Mind- as soon as you put something up, someone else comes along and jams something right on top of it and on it goes.

It’s all white noise.

So I try to make my wall fun, but to be honest most of the time when I look at Facebook I feel like I’m sitting next to some obnoxious motor mouth that I can’t pretend to ignore and they just won’t shut the hell up.

amm

 

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Stephen King Was Right

Facebook, oh Facebook… really?

The picture below, which I posted on my FB wall, shows up in books and magazines- and probably has for ages with little butt hurt as far as I know.

Of course the post as a whole is critical of Twitler aka Trump aka King of Walmart shoppers, Fake Christians and Gun Humpers everywhere.

So Facebook did it’s small part to direct the conversation away from the obvious comparisons made in the post between the words and deeds of Twitler and to protect the cocoon of self righteousness that Twitler’s supporters have wrapped themselves in.

FB stepped up and did their MAGA duty.

Hoozah.

So what happened?

Well  TWO YEARS after the fact FB banned my post.

By banning it the idea is Facebook is, as FB messaged me by way of explanation, they are  UPHOLDING COUMMUNITY STANDARDS BY PREVENTING OFFLINE HARM

In the mean time though:

In January, Facebook announced that it will continue to allow the spread of false political advertisements through its channels, preferring to allow Facebook users to suss out the facts for themselves.

So to wrap it up, Facebook just protected the interwebs and ” the community”

from me .

Now on to post and the message FB sent me.

Horror Writer Stephen King Has Quit Facebook: Here’s Why You Should Too

And Then The Stupid Fell Like Rain

Today I left a comment on a Facebook page about today’s hot topic- The President of the United States   😐   and his relationship with Putin.

I find this under my comment:

Yeah, and apparently someone else whose reading skills are a bit wonky agreed with Rebecca.

But things did take an interesting turn.

As a rule I don’t engage in Facebook convos because they’re sort of pointless…but some people do. This was the reply Rebecca got from someone whose reading and language  skills are sharper then hers:

You know, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times before- Facebook is like a funhouse ride where the operator is drunk and the seatbelts don’t work and the entire experience can send you to counseling, the Emergency Room or a Voodoo Priest.

And sometimes it’s pretty darn funny.