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Facebook Friend or Faux?

Caricature of Steve

“I’m suing Facebook!” declared John as he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair defiantly.

“Uh, didn’t you do that two years ago?” I recalled.

“Did someone unfriend you…again?” waitress Beverly asked as she approached our table for our order. “I think you’ll like our new special Arabian Mocha. A friend recommended it on…Facebook,” she winked mischievously.

“This is serious,” John rubbed his face and breathed deeply, “I can’t write anything on my Facebook page. It’s been flagged as satire!”

“I can’t imagine how that’s possible,” Beverly delighted as she filled my cup. 

“Well, there was that time you decided to run for congress,” I reminded with a slow savoring sip.”

“Yeah, like anyone took that seriously,” Beverly placed the pot on the table and walked away.

“OK, but…” John defended.

“And there was that gay marriage counseling business you started,” I added.

“You’re first wife probably posted that announcement,” suggested Beverly from her station. “It was hilarious.”

“Well, maybe…” John weakened.

“Wait, remember when you decided to go green?” I declared colorfully.

“Was that before or after wife number one or two?” Beverly stopped pouring our refills in midstream as she stared at the ceiling. “I never can keep them straight.”

 “Uh…my girlfriend and I broke up so I know longer…”

 “I know, it was when you dressed in clothing that represented all 32 Olympic Sports,” I laughed athletically.

“And I posted a photo on…uh…where was it? Yes, on Facebook!” Beverly and I shared a high five.

“Now just a minute…” John grumbled.

“And then there was your dancing career,” I enjoyed another sip. “The video of you and Beverly on YouTube went viral.

“Ugh, that was a misstep,” Beverly strolled back to the kitchen.

 “Why don’t you forget Facebook and just post your own blog?

“Don’t you remember,” John looked at his coffee regretfully. “I tried that.”

“Why don’t you switch to Twitter?”   “I said quickly.

 “I thought of that briefly.”

 “Here’s the bill, boys. Who’s picking up the tab?”

 “It’s my turn,” I pledged.

“And here’s the tip,” John plopped down two quarters.

Beverly shook her head “Now that’s what I call satire.”


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