HOW DARE YOU!!

Everything you know is wrong.

Is it advice my Father gave me, or feedback from former teachers and bosses?

Regardless, it could be the motto for our times.

I know there are 20 cigarettes in a pack, 11.6 beers in a 12 pack, and 75 emus in a snodgrass, but how many tweeters in a twitter mob?

I’m not on social media, or particularly social, but it is the ‘twitter mob’ that has everyone in perpetual apology mode.

And apparently this mayhem driving ‘mob’ is just 3 people. The trio meets daily in the basement (all still living at home), somewhere in Kansas, and decide whose soul to crush.

Who knew it was wrong to slap someone at the Oscars? Based upon the weddings and graduations I’ve been to, ‘violence while tuxedoed’ seemed fairly routine. In fact, it was the real and threatened violence against our teachers at our high school graduation that led to better marks, and ultimately, grade inflation – grades are now 6.8% higher than 40 years ago.

As an aside, is Will Smith French? What’s up with slapping another man? Couldn’t he have had his agent punch him?

And why wasn’t Chris Rock wearing the helmet he received in the Oscar gift bag?  

But the ‘Twitter mob’ has come for the slapper, the slappee, and the Oscar sponsors who condoned this faux-French violence (“Diet Coke causes climate change!”).

This is just another in a long line of ‘Twitter mobbing’, tracing to ancient times:

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, slammed as too ostentatious, too preachy, too Old Testamenty.

Marie Antoinette’s “Let them eat Cake”, slammed as “death to diabetics!”

Winston Churchill’s “This is our finest hour!” speech, slammed as “Speak for yourself, I’m too oppressed by systemic Britishism to get ahead!”  

It is challenging to know what to say –or do. I opened a door for a woman the other day, and based upon her glare she felt she didn’t need my help. Or it could have been the T-shirt I was wearing. I wanted to apologize, but had left my ‘pronoun translator’ in the car.

I just said, “Sorry about that, Fritz”, which turned out to be her name, and then cut her off in the parking lot.

And thanks to Apple’s release of new emojis and text responses, you can be your own ‘one-person Twitter mob’, slamming people for everything from awkward social interactions to generous tipping.

Some of the new emojis are frightening.

I received a message with a Hun-like character I’d never seen. Turned out it meant “I will pillage your farm, and sew it with rock salt so that it will never grow again. Have a nice day”.

There’s an “I’m afraid” version for college students, featuring a mob storming the dean’s office.

An emoji with a blank look means “I don’t know what details of the law/column/podcast are, but it must be stopped!”    

And for a while people would like, laugh at, or emphasize a text. Now they reply with:

“Reported to the authorities”

“Nice farm you’ve got. Shame if something happened to it”.

“You’ve done something to be ashamed of. Apologize”.    

“Your very existence makes me question my very existence”.

The world is now walking on egg shells, afraid to incur the wrath of social media.

Out of self-preservation, I will deal with this absurd, new world order by never voicing an opinion.

Oh, and never answering honestly when asked “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

For 95 more posts like this –each to be cancelled someday – go to beersatthenifty.com

At the site, leave a comment on this post, and then check the box that says “Please notify me of future posts” and you will be sent the newest Sunday update automatically.  

Or just forward this to everyone you know. Forward it to those you aren’t fond of twice.

The Weary Kind  Ryan Bingham (co-written with T-Bone Burnette)  2009

Your heart’s on the loose
You rolled them sevens with nothing to lose
And this ain’t no place for the weary kind

You called all your shots, Shooting eight ball at the corner truck stop
Somehow this don’t feel like home anymore

And this ain’t no place for the weary kind
And this ain’t no place to lose your mind
This ain’t no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

Your body aches, Playing your guitar, sweating out the hate
The days and the nights all feel the same

Whiskey has been a thorn in your side, It doesn’t forget
The highway that calls for your heart inside

And this ain’t no place for the weary kind
This ain’t no place to lose your mind
This ain’t no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

Your lover’s warm kiss
It’s too damn far from your fingertips
You are the man that ruined her world
Your heart’s on the loose
You rolled them sevens with nothing to lose
This ain’t no place for the weary kind

Falling Slowly   Glen Hansard Marketa Irglova  2007

I don’t know you, But I want you
All the more for that

Words fall through me, And always fool me
And I can’t react

And games that never amount, To more than they’re meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat, And point it home
We’ve still got time

Raise your hopeful voice, You have a choice
You’ll make it now

Falling slowly, Eyes that know me
And I can’t go back

And moods that take me and erase me
And I’m painted black

You have suffered enough, And warred with yourself
It’s time that you won

Take this sinking boat, And point it home
We’ve still got time

Raise your hopeful voice, You have a choice
You’ve made it now

Take this sinking boat, And point it home
We’ve still got time

Raise your hopeful voice                                                                                                                    You have a choice, You’ve made it now

Falling slowly, Sing your melody
I’ll sing it loud

I paid the cost too late, Now you’re gone

Streets of Philadelphia  Bruce Springsteen 1993

Could have been Philadelphia by Neil Young

I was bruised and battered, I couldn’t tell what I felt
I was unrecognizable to myself, Saw my reflection in a window
And didn’t know my own face
Oh brother are you gonna leave me wastin’ away
On the streets of Philadelphia?

I walked the avenue, ’til my legs felt like stone
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone
At night I could hear the blood in my veins
Just as black and whispering as the rain
On the streets of Philadelphia

Ain’t no angel gonna greet me, It’s just you and I my friend
And my clothes don’t fit me no more, A thousand miles just to slip this skin

The night has fallen, I’m lyin’ awake, I can feel myself fading away
So receive me brother with your faithless kiss
Or will we leave each other alone like this
On the streets of Philadelphia?

Call Me Irresonsible Jackie Gleason 1963

Music by Jimmy Van Heusen Lyrics by Sammy Cahn

Call me irresponsible, call me unreliable, Throw in undependable too
Do my foolish alibis bore you?
Well, I’m not too clever, I just adore you

Call me unpredictable, tell me I’m impractical
Rainbows, I’m inclined to pursue
Call me irresponsible, yes, I’m unreliable
But it’s undeniably true, I’m irresponsibly mad for you

Call me irresponsible, yes, I’m unreliable
But it’s undeniably true
I’m irresponsibly mad for you

Over the Rainbow  Judy Garland 1939

Writen by Yip Harburg and Harold Arlen

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
And the dreams that you dream of
Once in a lullaby, oh

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
And the dreams that you dream of
Dreams really do come true-ooh-ooh
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney tops that’s where
You’ll find me, oh

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
And the dream that you dare to
Oh why, oh why can’t I? I

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney top that’s where you’ll find me
Oh, somewhere over the rainbow way up high
And the dream that you dare to
Why, oh why can’t I? I

Miss Misery  Elliott Smith

Should have won 1997

I’ll fake it through the day
With some help from johnny walker red
Send the poison rain down the drain
To put bad thoughts in my head
Two tickets torn in half
And a lot of nothing to do
Do you miss me, miss misery
Like you say you do?

A man in the park
Read the lines in my hand
Told me I’m strong, Hardly ever wrong I said, “man, you’re mean”

You had plans for both of us
That involved a trip out of town
To a place I’ve seen in a magazine
That you left lying around
I don’t have you with me but
I keep a good attitude
Do you miss me, miss misery
Like you say you do?

I know you’d rather see me gone
Than to see me the way that I am
But I am in the life anyway

Next door the tv’s flashing
Blue frames on the wall

It’s a comedy, from the 80s, With a lead no one can recall,
It’s a comedy of errors, you see
It’s about taking a fall
To vanish into oblivion
Is easy to do
And I try to be but you know me
I come back when you want me to
Do you miss me miss misery
Like you say you do?