MORT's Meanderings

Just call me, 'anti-Social'.

The invitations keep a-coming, imploring me to join this pal, that friend, or some total stranger in one of the mutual admiration societies known as, Social Networks.

I'm sure I should be flattered that everyone who knows me or feels as though they ought to know me, wants me to be their 'friend' on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin and on and on. I've joined and un-joined one or more of these sites, several times.

Whenever I've been overwhelmed by the tantalizingly delicious mental image of millions of people becoming fascinated with my wizened image and hungrily consuming every detail of my personal trials, tribulations and triumphs - I've created a clever password and joined one of these internet thingees. Soon thereafter, when I've sobered up and am re-considering the possible ramifications of having myself undressed and exposed warts and all, for all the world to view - I've hastily tried to uncouple myself from the site to which I'd just 'signed-on'.

In each case I've found to my dismay, that it is not easy to disengage. Oh, it's simple enough to presume that one has successfully 'unsubscribed' by checking a small box at the very bottom of the web page and by providing one's e-address again, for the umpteenth time. However 'final' that unsubscribing process might appear, I believe that the first dozen times the routine is performed, one's declared desire is immediately propelled into outer space on an endless journey through the nether world of black holes. And, I also believe that each time after that when one attempts to unsubscribe, the message is printed out in a U. S. Government building named after the late Sen. Robert Byrd and located somewhere in the hills of West Virginia. Upon completion of the print-out, it is summarily shredded. I sincerely believe that.

So, having bared my I.Q. (Impatience Quotient) for all to see, I appeal to your 'better angels' (Is that presumptuous pandering, or what?) to keep me in your prayers but, off your Tweet lists . . . so to speak.

My e-mail door is wide open; my mailing address remains the same; my phones (residence and cell) are still working and my 'ESP' antenna is always up. So, if you even think of getting in touch, it should be easy. Or, at least, one helluva lot easier than trying to unsubscribe from one of the molasses-covered social sites mentioned previously.

I hope you understand. If you don't understand, I'll understand.

MORT MORT,
the understanding sort