Sundry September Itens

Quick note before we get started: I was asked by a message board colleague to be a writer for an LSU sports blog he started. He founded the blog soon after a third colleague posted that I should have my own column because my writing was "very rational and usually without a homer-slant." (I don't have to listen to these wild accusations!) You can view the blog here. Click on the ads, if you like. I don't think any of the money comes to me, but it'll make somebody happy.

Let's talk about Facebook for a bit. More specifically, let's talk about status updates. As one of the people who (I hope) reads this isn't on Facebook, allow me a quick explanation.

The top of your Facebook page has a box where you can enter a piece of text. This can say anything. You can ask a question, tell people you're leaving for the movies, say that you hate stupid people--whatever. It's called your Facebook status. Your Facebook friends can view your status in their Facebook news feed. If they want, they can click a little icon that "likes" your status. They can also enter text into a box and comment on your status. I think we're clear on that.

I don't put anything really dramatic in my status. I usually go for something funny. Maybe I'll vent now and then. I don't use it to ask God for help. He can read my mind; He doesn't need to get online to learn what I want. Mostly, I want it to be something that people will laugh at. Occasionally I'll type something, think about it two or three times before hitting the "Share" button, reconsider, and not post it. But I've usually thought it over before typing, so spur of the moment status posting is rare.

Where I think I'm going to get into trouble one day is commenting on other people's status updates. They may post something perfectly innocent and honest and true to who they are, and I think, "Ooh, this snarky, sarastic comment would be awesome right here!" Then the angel on my shoulder says, "Scotty, does the nice lady really deserve to be cut to ribbons by your razor-sharp wit right now? She's had a long day, and may not have thought things through before posting. When you stand before your maker, do you feel comfortable being able to answer for this?" To which I answer, "Yeah. I do." To which the angel replies, "You post that now, and Ima beat your ass." So I don't, because that angel don't joke around.

Having said that, it's tough not to comment or at least send a message when someone enters a status that runs along the lines of:

• Mentioning that your child made two D's on tests last week. That's nobody's business, and only embarrasses your child. I don't need to know that.
• Posting that you are through--through--with drama/those who don't care about me/people who waste my time, etc. Then two weeks later the person is complaining about the exact same thing. I thought you were done? [Note: the best part of this is the people who type supportive comments about "their loss" and "how special you are" and "I luv u, girl!" Note #2: my unscientific analysis has shown that most of these posters are female, which means either: A) girls are drama magnets; B) guys are endless sources of drama, and if we could tap into this, we'd solve the energy crisis; C) A and B]
  
• Posting something about someone else's medical condition. If you get permission, fine. But so many people put things about "thinking about my mother in the hospital" or "please pray for my friend Amy's mom, who was just diagnosed with breast cancer" is way out of line. That's really not my business either.
• Talking about where your child is when they're not with you or another family member. The Internet is a wild place, boys and girls, and you don't know who's watching. I don't see how making your kid's location public knowledge is ever a wise move.
  

I'm really tempted to just blast some of these people with a scathing rebuke. In most cases, I'm not close friends with them anyway, so it's no big loss if they de-friend me. I just don't know if public chastisement on my part is the right way to go.

Other times comments are welcomed, and even asked for. With most of the things I post as a status, I want people to post comments. But with other people's stuff, there's a lot of danger here for me too. Sometimes I say too much when I should keep it short. Sometimes I get in a back-and-forth with another commenter, and we end up talking about something unrelated to the status. I also post something now and then that the person completely misunderstands or just doesn't get. Know your audience. You might be joking when they're serious, or you might be serious when you're joking, and what you say just crashes the mood of the whole thing. It's tough swallowing my tongue--or in this case, fingers--but I think I'm getting better.

In conclusion, the world of the Facebook status is an interesting, dangerous, fascinating, humorous, and good judgment-requiring adventure. Have fun with it, but be careful along the way.

Take care.

LSU in Seattle

Many moons ago, back when the world was young, I went to Tiger Stadium in Baton Rouge to watch LSU play Texas A&M. I remember only two things: LSU won, and everybody booed the Aggie band when they walked onto the field. They put on such a good show that everybody cheered when they walked off. It was another eighteen years before I would see another LSU game in person. I went with my sister to see LSU get routed by Georgia in Athens in 2004. Last year I went with her again to see LSU lose in overtime to Alabama in Baton Rouge.

Saturday night in Seattle, when LSU was down 7-0 in the first quarter against a Washington team that went 0-12 last season, she said, "If we don't come back and win this game, you're banned." Happily for me, LSU did come back to win, so maybe I'm off the schneid. At one point the full moon was hanging low over the water and boats, which made a really nice scene.

I'd been to Vancouver, B.C. a few years ago, but never to the American Pacific Northwest. I was interested to see what Seattle was like, what the people were like, and how the food tasted. I was not disappointed. The city seems to be very quiet for a city its size, but I was there on a holiday weekend. The people seemed nice, especially--well, I guess this calls for a story:

In the beginning, there was the World's Greatest Waitress (Note: in this case "the beginning" would be October 19, 2000). Later on, there was the World's Greatest Bartender. On September 6, I met the World's Greatest Girl Who Works at a Chocolate Store in Seattle. An inch or two taller than me, silky brown hair, sparkling eyes, and a nice smile. I asked her if it was hard working there at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. She looked me in the eye--time stopped, angels sang, birds landed on my shoulder, and I got a little lightheaded--and said, "Oh yeah." On our way out she thanked us, and I said, "Oh no, thank you."

I should have proposed when I had the chance. She would have made me so happy. I don't know if I'd have made her happy, but I'd have given it a shot.

I was pleasantly surprised by the food. When I was in Vancouver I was a bit disappointed. In Seattle I had a couple of good burgers, good pizza, and a nice dish of blackened chicken linguini at McCormick and Schmick's. And of course, the chocolate...

Seattle's really clean. I mean it's really, really clean. Of course, I spent the summer in New Orleans, so maybe a lot of places would seem clean in comparison. It made me wonder what sort of draconian measures are in place to keep it that way. I looked for something that I would take for granted seeing someplace else but didn't see there, and hoped I could ask "Hey, why isn't anybody doing X?" and they'd say, "Oh no, we can't do that. It's against the law!" and I'd say, "What? You can't do X? That's terrible!"

I'd like to take a trip back there to see a few things we missed this time around. It's a nice place.

Note: I'm watching the U.S. Open, and Trump was there with a woman I assume is his wife Melania. He started talking to her, presumable about play on the court. She sat there and stared straight ahead. Does anyone know if she's allowed to talk?