By Mickey Friedman
July 30, 2015
There was a message waiting from Monty Pickleberg, Founder of Facelook. “It has come to our attention that it’s been a while since you posted a smile. You know, of course: No Smiles, No Miles.” I emailed Monty explaining that life had hit a very sad patch but never heard back.
Checking my Facelook feed, it’s very clear that my friends live better lives than me. They eat out more, hike, bike, sail, balloon, spoon, and smile more.
How is it they all eat lobster?
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen lobster.
I did make it to Lee to Knead A Bagel and got a garlic and some lox spread. Very good. But a lobster, not.
So many smiles. Their Facelook Miles for Smiles App hard at work: every smile posted, another mile on their Capitol City credit card.
But I haven’t applied. Fear of failure.
You know how at Amazon check out time, you discover you’re basically a schmuck and could be paying forty dollars less if only you had the Amazon credit card.
Well, finally, after spending several small fortunes buying hard drives and tomato puree I surrendered. Clicked. Applied. A big no! They wanted proof I live where I live, even though for years, I’ve gotten my hard drives and tomato puree. The windshield wiper and battery charger. Two different times I sent the department that doesn’t believe I really live where I say I live copies of electric and phone bills. But got back a form letter asking for more proof. I thought I’d send them my Mail Lady but it seemed extreme. So I’ve decided to look away when I come to the Amazon checkout. And embrace the fact that, schmuck that I am, I am once again wasting forty bucks.
Thing is I’m pretty sure every one of my Facelook friends is saving while I spend. Using their Amazon Card when they’re not using their Capitol City Miles for Smiles Card.
My Facelook friend Posey has one of the most gorgeous smiles on Earth. And her smiling posts from Mexico are fantastic. To be truthful, I haven’t paid much attention to reincarnation. I don’t really know how it works. Like where and how and when you apply. Do you have to write an essay? Send them your Bucket List? Do they want to see your last electric bill? To make sure you’re using those I-care-about-the-future-more-than-I-want-to-see-what’s-right-in-front-of-me twisted light bulbs that force you to squint? Is the Reincarnation Department working with the Miles for Smiles folk?
Because I’m thinking when Posey becomes someone else, there’s bound to a Posey Vacancy. And she has the best collection of Facelook friends with the best collection of smiles and they seem to love each other and spend a lot of time eating lobster by the sea. And I don’t think you could find a better reincarnate if you tried. If that’s what you call who you hope to become. See I told you I don’t really know anything about reincarnation. Like if someone gets to Posey before me, can I become a really good second baseman soon enough so that when Dustin Pedroia moves on I can slip seamlessly onto the Red Sox.
You would think you could find out about this stuff somewhere in your Facelook feed. Instead I see a whole lot of cute cats. Which, to be quite honest, is more than a little hard for me. Because most of you have never seen your cute little cat subject a frog to water-boarding or extreme interrogation. Anyway, a few fewer cats and more useful information about how I can become Posey or Dustin would be nice.
And if it isn’t the smiles and the lobsters, it’s the wisdom. What is it about the constant inspiration? If it isn’t Mother Theresa, it’s the ever-present Astrologer. Or the Daily Llama. The cards with the curly-cue borders that your Facelook friends just know will help: “Trust that God Gives You Exactly What You Need.” Or: “You may not see The Universe, but The Universe Sees You.”
Or lately, the ubiquitous: “One Smile, Another Mile.”
I don’t think I’ve ever posted a Mother Theresa. Or a Mercury in Retrograde.
I usually go the wrong way. Posting about the poor Greeks screwed by the bankers and the European Union, or about the chickens. Those many millions of frozen chickens who leave the States on a slow boat to China to be chopped and hacked and ground by our underpaid Chinese brothers and sisters. Then sent mutilated back home on the next frozen boat. Your Farm to China to MagicMart to Table Chickens. Miles and miles. So very sad. For them and us.
So I wouldn’t be surprised if Monty Pickleberg and my Facelook friends de-look me. And if no one wants to become me the next time around. No smiles or miles for me.
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This column appeared first on July 23, 2015 in The Berkshire Record.