AND THE WINNER IS ...

It always comes as a shock to me to recognize that I am not everyone's kettle of fish. But not a surprise. Recently I've been remembering two people who moved to Las Vegas three years ago, and cleaned up their Facebook Friends list before doing so. I did not make the cut.

I've gone through all the friend requests I sent that were still out there, over a years worth, several to former coworkers, and cancelled them.
At the end of the month I'll weed down my Friends list slightly.
One person is a very definite erasure.
Someone I actually like.

But we have nothing in common. We seldom meet in the real world, and he tends to sneer at various things.


Some Facebook friend requests are never sent. Common sense dictates that if someone's weltanschauung is too different, it is better to fade into the woodwork. Remain discreetly invisible.



Someone on social media asked: "There are many famous pipe smokers; lauded for their contributions to the arts, humanities, sciences, and there are those who have committed terrible acts. For you, who is the most important person that has been or is famous and a pipe smoker?"

My answer:
The list is nearly endless. Saul Bellow. Georges Simenon. Jack Kerouac. Somerset Maugham. William Faulkner. C.S. Lewis.

I'm ignoring Conan Doyle, J. R. R. Tolkien, Rudyard Kipling, and a host of other mediocre scribblers.


You will kindly note two things in my response, namely that the people mentioned were all writers, and that I presume that the "listeners" there are, in fact, people who read.



I am not nearly as well-read as I would like to be. There are some people out there who just don't read.





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