You know who I worry about?
I worry about the people who, almost a decade into social media, still get so darn angry that people are Facebooking and Tweeting about "what they had for breakfast."
These people are drawing from a bottomless well of resentment, it seems to me, at other people who they see as forever gallavanting, while they themselves toil their lives away in unloved anonymity.
The way everyone should live, they imply.
Okay, Mr. 1930s Russian Peasant.
These sour, sad phonies put me in mind of the old joke about the rabbi who kisses the synagogue floor and says, "God, before you I am nothing."
Not to be outdone, the cantor does the same. "God, before you I am nothing."
And then Maury, in the third row, spontaneously leaps into the aisle and kisses the ground and says, "God, before you I am nothing."
And the cantor turns to the rabbi and says, "Look who thinks he's nothing."
That's going to be my next Facebook post: "This morning I am nothing."
And someone will object: Look who thinks he's nothing.