The True Facebook of Evil

Just recently, I've come face to face with a force more malevolent than Al Qaeda, Osama bin Laden, and whoever invented the ridiculous Final 36 elimination process on America Idol combined.  That's right.  I'm referring to Facebook -- the single greatest scourge to affect the Internet since the invention of the pop-up ad, except we actually learn something from our folly in the latter case.  "Oh wow!  I'm the one zillionth person on this website!  I'll click here to claim my prize.  Doh!"

How many times could you fall for that?  Once?  Maybe twice, if you attended public school.  Yet, I've fallen for the biggest time-wasting scam of all -- Facebook.  I suspect that you've probably heard the pitch -- that Facebook will allow you to keep up with all of the significant events in the lives of your friends and family with minimal effort.  And if you have a hectic work schedule as I do, you've probably thought, "That would be great!"  Well, think again. 

For one, if you've been married for a decade or so like I have, you don't have many friends to keep up with anyway; online or offline.  Over the yours, your spouse has probably "culled the herd" of those who belonged to the "wrong" political party, had questionable morals, or worst, were still single.  For example, after 16 years of marriage, my only remaining friends are my father, two cousins and our pastor; and after his comments leading up to the last election, I'm not sure how much longer I will be allowed to go over the pastor's house to play.  

As a result, for a little while, my only Facebook friend was ... you guessed it ... my wife; and I'm not so sure that she was thrilled to make my online acquaintance.  She seemed particularly displeased when I tried to add her as my wife in my online profile.  When Facebook asked her to confirm our marital status, she must have sensed an opportunity to "make a break for it."  So instead of confirming, she called to ask, "Do we have to be married on here as well?"  She then added ... and I'm not making this up ... "You're cramping my style!"

My life became even more pathetic when I began to log online to get updates about our life.  "Well, I see that the kids haven't set fire to the house today.  Oops.  I just didn't scroll down far enough.  And what's this?  We are having trouble in our marriage?  It appears that we just don't communicate enough.  Well, let me solve this by sending her a private message right now."

Fortunately, with the help of Facebook, I was able to locate a slew of former classmates and work colleagues to add to my list of friends.  Before long, I was receiving a barrage of updates about their lives, reminding me precisely why I had allowed myself to lose contact with them in the first place.

Now, don't get me a wrong.  If one of my Facebook friends gets, say, a new job or a new house or a new kidney, I want to know about it.  However, I don't need to know if they have just found their first gray hair or become online friends with someone who I don't know or become a fan of Sweet Tea (and no, that's not a new rock band, but the actual beverage).  Yet, all day long, my Facebook page is filled with news updates that are so inane that, if I don't know better, I would think that I'm watching Fox News.

For example, just today, I learned these fascinating insights into the life of my younger sister, Candice.  And I'm not making this up or exaggerating in any way!

11:15 am -- She screwed up her shoulder playing catch with my nephew.

1:46 pm -- She has tried to fight it for too long but has come to the realization that she just does not like sausage on her pizza.

5:41 pm -- She is stuck in a very crowded, very loud Chuck E Cheese and is pleading, "Get me out of here!!!!" (That makes two of us, sis!)

8:59 pm -- She is about to watch the Amazing Race.  The Oscars can kiss her #$%.

Now, I know what you're thinking -- the Oscars can kiss your #$% too!  You might also be thinking that I have the wrong attitude.  You might love to know all of these things about a typical day in the life of, say, your mother or brother or son or daughter.  However, you must keep in mind that, in a short period of time, you could accumulate 100 online friends (perhaps 200 if your spouse doesn't "cull the herd").  Can you imagine getting 400 of these updates everyday?  And this is not to mention the comments you will receive from their friends reading "I hate sausage on my pizza too!" and "No way, sausage rules!"

Finally, if you aren't on Facebook yet, then you're probably asking the obvious question: "If Facebook is such a time-waster, why do I keep logging on?"  However, if you are on Facebook, then you know the answer to this question -- "I can't help myself!"  As much as I hate reading about the mundane events in the lives of my Facebook friends, I'd hate even more to miss an important development.  For example, what if someone was to post pictures of their newborn or news of the death of a loved one or the winner of Best Cinematography at the Oscars?  How could I live without knowing this vital information and being able to comment on it for others?  "That's the cutest baby EVER!  So sorry to hear about your sixth cousin Bessy.  Slumdog Millionaire was SOOOO over-rated!"

Of course, I wouldn't have this dilemma had I never signed onto Facebook in the first place.  However, now that I've had a taste of it, I'm hooked much like someone addicted to crack cocaine, crystal meth or Krispy Kreme; only not nearly as interesting at a party.  Yet, there might still be time for you.  If you haven't signed onto Facebook yet, then just say "No!"  And if you are on Facebook, add me as a friend.  I'm just dying to know about your favorite pizza topping, television show or beverage.

Don't Be Cavalier With the Lavalier

When it comes to the topic of microphones, I've always been a "lav" man.  Now, don't get me wrong.  It's not that I'm in love with the lavalier or lapel microphone, it's just that there aren't any other reasonable alternatives.

For example, the microphone attached to the lectern tends to limit your freedom of motion, which is okay if you are, say, giving an address from the head table at a banquet or your feet have been nailed to the floor.  Otherwise, you might want the option of moving more than three inches in any direction.  Of course, your movement will be further limited if the lectern mic is of the normal quality (i.e., bad).  In that case, you will spend your entire presentation bent over the lectern as if you were accepting an American Music Award.  "I'd like to thank everyone for coming out to my CLE, especially those of you in the balcony.  This CLE is for you guys!"

The other option -- a handheld microphone -- presents its own challenges.  For one, it requires you to spend an hour or more holding a microphone near your face ... and at just the optimal distance from your mouth.  And, of course, that optimal distance varies from mic to mic.  With some microphones, you must practically kiss the thing to get it to pick up your voice, which does nothing for the clarity of your speech.  In fact, the audience usually feels as if it is attending CLE in a bus terminal.  "Did he just say that the plaintiff had no standing or that the fifth bus is going to Mays Landing?"  And with other microphones, you have to hold it, say, 12-14 feet from lips for fear of deafening everyone in the audience.

That being said, the lav mic does have one serious drawback -- it is possible to inadvertently walk out of the room with it still on (something that would be extremely difficult to do with, say, a lectern microphone).  As a fledgling speaker, I'd often hear horror stories about speakers who visited the restroom with their mics still on.  I still remember thinking, "What kind of idiot would do such a thing?"  That is, until last month, when I learned just what kind of idiot would leave his lav mic on after a speech -- ME.

Now, in my defense, I was in the midst of a speaking trip in which I would speak in seven different cities in nine days.  To make matters worse, rather than scheduling these speeches in terms of geographical proximity, we had apparently scheduled them in alphabetical proximity.  "P falls between O and S in the alphabet, so let's have you speak in Oakland on Wednesday, Philadelphia on Thursday and San Francisco on Friday, just to keep things logical."  As a result, I had spent most of the week crisscrossing the country as if I was Carmen Sandiego, except that she is taken for more seriously.  I was simply too exhausted to realize what I was doing as I gathered my things and headed to the valet stand to retrieve my car for the drive back to the airport.

While waiting for my car, I was chatting with a young man about the recent Obama inauguration when, all of a sudden, the president of the organization came running towards me, waving frantically and mouthing, "Your mic is still on!"  I looked down, and sure enough, there was the green light on the battery unit.  I sheepishly handed over the equipment as we exchanged a quick laugh and she returned to their meeting, which was still in progress.  I was still laughing about the incident when it occurred to me that I had called my wife briefly after the talk; unknowingly broadcasting my part of the conversation to the room.  Uh oh!  Oakland, I think we have a problem.

I frantically tried to recall exactly what I said to my wife.  When she asked how the speech went, what did I say?  Did I reply with something generic like "Great" or "Fine," or had I elaborated?  "It would have been great except for this one fat, bald guy sitting in the front row with a light blue shirt and paisley tie.  He didn't laugh once at my jokes.  Is it my fault that his wife probably left him for the UPS man?  I think not!"  Trust me, I've said worse.

And that was precisely what I spent the rest of the day thinking about it -- had I made some horribly inappropriate remark that would reflect adversely on the organization, its leadership and perhaps, most importantly, my chances of receiving the balance of my fee?  Or had I just said something that would be appropriate if said privately to my wife, but not in a conversation being overheard by 200 strangers?

For instance, given that I hadn't been home in more than a week, perhaps we had talked about that special thing I would do for her when I returned home that Friday night (i.e., take the garbage cans out front; Saturday is trash day).  Or perhaps, we had discussed which one of us would be selling a kidney on eBay to replace the funds we lost in the stock market last year.

In any event, none of this would have been necessary had I not been so cavalier with the lavalier.  So please learn from my mistakes (I never seem to).  Never leave the room still wearing your lav mic.  And if your speaker attempts to do so, feel free to do whatever it takes to stop him, even if you have to put him in a full-nelson sleeper hold to do so.  He (and his wife) will thank you for it.  Trust me on this one!

ACLEA, Tequila and Karaoke ... Oh My!

This week, I made my semi-annual pilgrimage to the mecca of CLE -- the ACLEA Mid-Year Meeting.  I was particularly excited about this conference because it was being held just outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico.  New Mexico was one of the six states I had yet to visit (despite living in an adjoining state) and I was eager to cross it off my list.  Furthermore, I was eager to renew old friendships, learn of developing trends in the world of CLE, and forever tarnish my reputation within the industry.  Sadly, I was only successful in one of these endeavors and I think you can guess which one.

One of the best things about ACLEA meetings is that the people who attend them actually like each other.  As a result, the extracurricular activities are as well attended as the educational sessions, if not better.  In fact, if truth be told, there are a few individuals (who shall remain nameless provided they call me immediately for a booking) who only attend the extracurricular events ... but I digress.

On Monday evening, dozens of us dined at a Tex-Mex restaurant that served ... you guessed it ... margaritas (oh, and I think they served food too).  Afterwards, we returned to the hotel and not being able to bear the thought of being apart for an entire night, we assembled in the bar for a night of karaoke.  It was here where I got the idea that I could save a lot of time and effort by simply drinking tequila straight from the bottle as if I was in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland.  In a sense, I was "cutting out the middle man."

After my third, fourth or two-hundredth shot of tequila (one tends to lose track), I had an epiphany -- I must perform my own karaoke song.  There was just one minor problem -- my singing voice should be registered with the FBI as a deadly weapon.  My voice is so bad that even the judges on American Idol would be shocked if they heard it.  I can imagine Randy Jackson sitting there dumb-founded with blood trickling from his ears just mumbling, "Dawg.  Dawg.  How could you?"

Now, there isn't enough tequila in all of New Mexico (or old Mexico for that matter) to make me forget that I can't sing.  As a result, I searched the song sheet looking for rap songs, finding just two -- M.C. Hammer's You Can't Touch This and Sir Mix-a-Lot's Baby Got Back.  Realizing that I neither danced well enough (nor owned pants baggy enough) to pull off an imitation of M.C. Hammer, I opted for the latter song.  And by "opted," I mean that my former good friend, Stuart Teicher, pulled me up to the karaoke machine yelling, "This is going to be so good!  I'll do the song with you!"

Before I knew it, the music had begun and there we were -- Sir Drunk-a-Lot and Sir What-Do-I-Care-If-We-Embarrass-Ourselves-I-Am-New-Here-A-Lot.  To my surprise, the women in the room responded to the thumping bass line with incredible enthusiasm.  They jumped to their feet and started screaming like 13-year-old girls at a Jonas Brothers concert.  I thought to myself, "What was I worried about?  This is going to be just fine."

Of course, at this time, the first lyrics had yet to appear on the screen and I had no idea what was coming next.  After all, Baby Got Back was originally released in 1992, back in the days when the only people on the Internet were Al Gore and Screech from Saved By the Bell.  I hadn't heard this song in at least a decade and had completely forgotten that the song starts with "I like big butts and I cannot lie ..."

And it only went downhill from there as the lyrics became increasingly provocative (and even racially-polarizing).  It then started coming back to me -- MTV had banned the music video for this song at one point.  That's right!  The same network that brought us such "family-oriented entertainment" as Jackass, Beavis & Butthead, and The Osbournes,  drew the line at a three-minute ode to the virtues of an ample backside.  And they were right to do so!  Unfortunately, I didn't have the benefits of a network censor (or a fully functioning frontal lobe) at the time, so I had to stumble my way through the rest of the song.

To my amazement, the ladies in the bar didn't storm the stage demanding apologies (or at least assurances that their butts weren't the ones I was rapping about).  Instead, they clapped and cheered.  Yet, I could tell that something had changed and that our relationships would never be the same.  And how could they?  In just three minutes, I had transformed from a mild-mannered humorist who tells innocent stories (many involving his wife and four young children) into a butt-obsessed misogynist with unresolved racial biases.

Therefore, I want to take this moment to apologize to the women of ACLEA.  I want to apologize on behalf of myself, my partner in rhyme, Sir Mix-A-Lot and every man who has ever judged a woman, not by the content of her character, but the size and shape of her derriere.  And if you allow me to return to future conferences, I promise that I will never perform karaoke, chug tequila, or air my videotaped footage of several of you singing and dancing to I'm Too Sexy.  Do we have a deal?

I thought so.  See you in Salt Lake City!