Another Awkward Lesson in Weird Facebook Etiquette

This is a blog that might make you laugh, though I'm not laughing as a write it.

Famous woman who I follow on Facebook (laugh here, roll your eyes) posts link to great article about factory farming, contamination and human health. I read it (duh). I like it. I cross post it to my followers.

In the article, I run across an error of sorts -- salmonella poisoning, while totally horrible and frequent enough to affect over a million Americans a year -- is actually hard to get, though the article suggests otherwise.

Why do I know this? Well, my sister (the doc) used to work in infectious diseases. And, last weekend, at her house, the kids were making a cake together and they started eating the batter. I got worried and mentioned salmonella, to which my sister said, "Actually, you have to consume SO MANY salmonella bacteria to get sick that it's one of the infections that we doctors don't worry too much about; it's actually kinda hard to get sick from eating a little raw egg. We hardly ever see anybody in the ER with salmonella poisoning, at least hardly ever due to raw eggs." OK, great. I stopped worrying and the kids ate leftover batter and nobody got sick.

Well, the article said that you could get sick by eating as few as 15-20 bacteria. Given my recent conversation with my sister, I thought that made it sound like salmonella was really EASY to get. So, I called her and told her what the article said.

Her response: "That is true of shigella, but not salmonella." She couldn't stay on the phone, but she said she'd call me later with the data; she thought you needed somewhere in the vicinity of at least 20-30 THOUSAND to get sick.

So, not wanting to wait, I went online and found the following information: "It is commonly accepted that between 1 million to 1 billion bacteria are needed to cause infection although some investigators suggest some people may be infected by far fewer bacteria" (Medicinenet.com/salmonella/page2).

(Aside: For the record,factory farming is horrible and the article in today's Huffington Post SHOULD convince you that conditions of factory farming lead to disease in animals and directly contribute to human illness. But the details about salmonella poisoning are a bit off.)

So...I went back to the original poster and commented that while the article is EXCELLENT, there is a small error. I went on to explain. I was very polite and to the point. Unlike this blog, I didn't go on and on... You can laugh again here.

She deleted my comments!

I'm totally offended. (Go ahead and laugh again -- why should I care that she deleted my comments? Right??!! Who the hell cares? It's Facebook!? Stupid Facebook!!)

In her defense, she doesn't know me. She probably thinks I'm some quack or a troublemaker. She may think any "follower" who bothers to question what she posts shouldn't follow her. Or, perhaps she's tight with the author of the Huffington Post article and doesn't want somebody challenging her. Whatever.

I'm slowly learning an unwritten rule of following the famous and semi-famous: You're supposed to AGREE with everything they do. To try to engage in a conversation -- even in a friendly way -- isn't really what they're after. They want adherents, not challengers. They want converts, not conversations.

And, honestly, I use Facebook for conversations. I've learned -- again -- only to have those with people who want the same.

Fame, Local Media-Style

I've been approached by news media exactly twice in my life, both times with my youngest child in tow, both times with said child in mismatched, stained, old clothing. Ug. Will I EVER learn that it is ALWAYS a good idea to look presentable when you leave the house?

The first time this happened, I was still living in NJ. I was out for a walk with my baby and was approached by a newscaster intent on getting my take on the latest rabid-raccoon-in-the-neighborhood story. Turns out, my neighbor (a friend) had been attacked by the raccoon the previous day, and the story had made local news the previous night. Now, the reporter was looking for people who would say the following things, "I'm so scared," "You don't expect that around here," and "I'm telling my kids to stay inside." Of course, I said none of the above. The reporter was so frustrated with me, he did the leading question thing. (DO NOT do that to an academic, or anybody with half a brain, because THEY. ARE. NOT. THAT. STUPID.) Even though I refused to agree with any of his assertions, he STILL used my footage, concluding that 'neighbors around here are pretty shook up'. I'm telling you, getting fifteen minutes of fame just isn't that hard; just don't go looking for accuracy.

Today's story: Little did I know, when I left this morning, to take my four-year-old for a haircut, that it might matter that he was wearing his shirt backwards, his torn jeans shorts, and his sandals on the wrong feet, and that I was wearing neither contacts nor makeup. Together, the two of us looked like...well, we looked like very average mall-goers. A tired Mom and a frazzled toddler. In other words, so average that a newscaster would want our (tired and frazzled) opinion.

We had just finished the haircut battle and were leaving the mall with the promised candy-as-reward in hand. The local news here (KEZI-9) is apparently so desperate for a story that it decided to do a segment on the mall's new facelift. The newscaster approached me, asking if I'd care to be interviewed. I said no. I said I rarely go here. I said I'd just moved here. I said that I only go to the mall for a movie or to get my sons' hair cut. I said that I'd be giving her just an impressionistic take and that it might not be terribly accurate.

"That's fine," she said. "Someone else just told me the same thing. You don't have to be an expert." God, not that I expected that anybody interviewed by local media WAS an expert, but gosh? Shouldn't she be TRYING to talk to people who actually have lived here awhile, pay attention to local politics AND use the mall regularly?

So, she interviewed me. I'm telling you, if she uses my segment, she is truly desperate. Not only did I look like HELL (and so did my child), but I said nothing of import. When pressed with the question, 'Well, do you think that the mall should be doing this exterior painting?,' I said, "Well, it looks like it could stand a facelift, so I'll say 'yes'".

Stirring news. Extraordinary insight. Compelling logic. It's all there. Don't miss it.

Facebook Weirdness

Since I'm not getting ANYTHING done yet today, I might as well blog...

That's a terrible way to begin an essay, I know.

Let's try this: in the past 10 months since I've been on Facebook, I've reconnected with many people whom I should have never lost contact with in the first place. I've also, very recently, added a couple "friends" who are semi-famous. Yeah, that's weird. I don't need to be told that. This internet stuff tempts people to the dark side, I swear.

So, here's the story. God's honest truth. I read the book Skinny Bitch (as you know if you've been reading my blogs). I also, roughly at the same time, was convinced by a friend to try Twitter, which I don't particularly like (which you also know, if you read my blogs). Somehow (and I truly do not remember the details here), I stumbled upon the author's Twitter feed. I decided to follow her. So far, so good. In the Twitter world, such activity is "normal." Boundaries, or the lack thereof, take on a whole new meaning in Twitterland.

About a week into my Twittering (or is it "Tweeting"?), the author mentioned on Twitter that she'd just updated her Facebook page and everybody should go see it. So, off I went, to my Facebook page, to look at her Facebook page, which of course I couldn't see because she's not my friend. So, I cautiously sent her a message, asking if she used Facebook for her fans or just for her personal friends, and adding that I would of course understand if it were just for the latter. She added me as a friend (she has, oh, 4000 or so) and so now she's in my feed and I'm in hers.

Copy and paste that story for two other semi-famous people, and you know the story of three of my Facebook "friends." We've never seen each other in real life and I doubt like hell they pay attention to my Facebook (or Twitter) updates. After all, they have, potentially, thousands to follow. But, it turns out, in real life, they actually know each other (as judged by their photos, where two of them in particular are often seen hanging out together at posh NYC and LA parties). I also doubt they look at my photos, but if they do: nobody famous appears in any of them.

Two of these people leave many posts (often per day) having to do with animal rescues, vegan recipes, animal rights, human rights rallies, gay rights, etc. I admire their work (otherwise I wouldn't bother to follow them or friend them). They are very strong animal-rights activists, human-rights activists, hyper-environmentally aware, and vegan. Add to that list attractive, glamorous, well-connected and evangelical.

If the last word catches you off guard, I intended it to. In most circles, *I* come across as quite liberal, very open-minded, relatively smart, well-educated and (as you know, if you've read my blogs), a food experimenter, most recently of almost-veganism. However, I've learned (unhappily) through commenting on some posts by aforementioned "friends" that I'm seen by their friends (and perhaps by them, too, though I'm not sure, since they generally don't comment on their own posts) as hopelessly backward, uninformed, "speciesist," and cruel.

One part of me (the more sensible part?) knows I don't need to take these comments to heart. After all, they don't know me, and I don't know them, and it's OK to disagree and such. But another part of me (the part that wants everybody to like me?) feels terribly misunderstood and defensive. If I take a centrist position on a topic (as in, "some meat and dairy consumption is OK," or "some animal research, carefully conducted with well-screened protocols for animal safety, is justifiable"), I inevitably get chewed out by people who take the stand that the ONLY way to peace (HEAVEN / SALVATION) is through veganism (JESUS)and that animals have EXACTLY the same rights as people, and if you think that perhaps that's an overstatement, you're part of the (WORLDWIDE) problem, and that only they (the VEGANS / ANIMAL-RIGHTS ACTIVISTS) are going to take you there (Peace, or is it salvation?).

I can't help but think of the parallels with religion: if I were Jewish (or Hindu or Muslim, or Jain or...) and an evangelical Christian came up to me, lecturing about the ONLY way to get to heaven, most sensible people would tell that (albeit well-meaning) Christian to bug the hell off. Even as a Christian myself, I'd be at the front of the line, telling the evangelical to take her views elsewhere. Similarly, if a white person uttered some sort of racist remark to a non-white, there would (hopefully) be a throng of people telling that person exactly where to go. But there have been no such defenders of my (in my opinion) centrist-to-left positions on these threads. I'm left feeling beat up and tempted to call the evangelicals crazy, though in my leaning toward tolerance, I have refrained from such behavior.

I've decided to back away from commenting on these threads. I had hoped that a good conversation would actually start with one of my comments -- one that involves sensitivity to other points of view, or recognition that people start out at different places and take different journeys (which do not all end at the same locale). Alas, evangelicals are not long on seeing other points of view.

But do I regret these virtual friends? Not at all. I'm learning a whole lot (not the least of which is internet etiquette, which still throws me off now and then). But I am super-happy that the majority of my FB friends are people who really know ME. Love you guys!

Farrah and Michael

So, it's been a little over 24 hours since Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson died. In true American form, that is SO yesterday's news. I'm moving on. Well, not really -- I'm taking time to make fun of their fans, and of Hollywood. After all, it's a toss up as to which is more ridiculous.

Before I get going here, let me be clear that I am truly saddened by their deaths. They were cultural icons. Whatever that means -- and I have to be honest that I'm not entirely sure -- they seemed to be "it". Her hair and his dance moves defined a whole generation, for better or for worse. I think I was the only girl I knew who never attempted the Farrah hair; I had more of a Kate Jackson look, though I secretly wanted to look like Jacklyn Smyth.

Michael's talent was undeniable, and though it's fun to take pot shots at his weirdness and his personal trials and possible immorality, those things do not take away from what he gave the world through his music. In high school, the thing to do was practice moonwalking, and the really cool kids did it well, often in the middle of the dance floor with the rest of us uncoordinated slobs cheering them on. He made white socks and tight jeans cool, and I was far from alone in LOVING his music videos. I was so mad my parents wouldn't get cable. Thank God the boyfriend's family had cable!

Farrah's story, at least to me, is quite different. I wouldn't actually begin a memorial to Farrah by describing her unusual talent. Not to be mean, but that's not really what Farrah was famous for, whereas it is, at least in part, what made Michael famous. Farrah was NOT the best actress that ever lived. Yet, she did many things worthy of admiration. For one, she left a TV show when it was successful because it was the right thing for her to do, not because it was what was going to benefit a network or gladden fans. I'm thinking that probably took some courage (helped along, of course, by a mountain of accumulated money and a marriage to Lee Majors). She raised a son and stayed in a relationship for nearly 30 years. Unmarried or not, that's an achievement. She ventured into sculpture and artwork, some of which (from what I saw on the Baba Wawa special) looked kinda good. She had the bravery to pose nude TWICE, once in her fifties. She knew she was beautiful, but she also didn't want to let that be the only thing she was known for. If you ever saw her in the TV movie, "The Burning Bed," you know that she was in fact a whole lot smarter and capable than the role that originally made her famous.

A friend who used to live in Carlsbad (where Farrah lived) showed me where Farrah worshipped -- a trendy, undeniably Hollywoodish, kinda-out-there, Hinduish place. That tells me she was attempting some kind of relationship with God, and I think that's admirable. (For you doubters out there, Farrah had been worshipping there for years, not just since the diagnosis.) From what my friend had been told -- years before the diagnosis -- Farrah was a faithful, regular worshipper. And she took the time to have coffee with my friend, simply because my friend went up to her and said, "I just wanted you to know how much I used to enjoy Charlie's Angels." What a nice person (both my friend and Farrah!).

Yesterday, the news portrayed both Farrah and Michael as flawed (true) and as equally artistically talented (sorry, not true). Hollywood took the opportunity to hold them up as iconic, because really -- how could Hollywood pass up that opportunity when Farrah and Michael had the audacity to die ON THE SAME DAY?! What was missing, in my opinion, was the truth: one was freakishly talented (yet freakish) and the other uncommonly beautiful (yet only commonly talented). I suppose this was done as much to placate fans of both as it was to allow Hollywood the opportunity to weave a story of similarity between the two. I don't see the similarity, obviously. It also gave Hollywood a chance to propagate yet another myth: that in dying, the very famous become like the rest of us.

The famous suffer like the rest of us, true. But I do not believe that in dying Farrah and Michael are suddenly like the rest of us, or like the 10,000 children who starved to death yesterday. They were not, and are not, "like us." We (their fans) and Hollywood made them that way, and we have to live with the difference we created -- for all the negative AND positive reasons that difference spawns.

They have stars on the walk of fame. They died with arguably the best medical care. They had legions of people praying for them, blogging about them, thinking about them. Though their families may have (very understandably) wished to be obscure (yesterday in particular), the reality is that most people never have the opportunity to experience the kind of LOVE from so many people that these people had. It's hard to imagine, frankly, and I suspect hard to understand when it's directed at you. It is truly crazy. But you cannot make the argument that death equalizes everybody. Even in death, Hollywood stays Hollywood. Fame remains. Crazy fans remain crazy.

In the end, it looks as though one of these stars had more talent, but far less success in personal life, than the other. Who would I rather have been? It's not hard to choose. (Hint: it's the one whose death was all but eclipsed yesterday by the death of the other.) RIP Farrah and Michael