@postaday 363; #postaday2011.
Over the years I have accumulated quite a few friends on social media. I have met their children and grandchildren, and they are almost always delightful. But I don’t want them to be my friend on Facebook, I don’t want them to follow me on Twitter, and I’d rather not cross Paths with them.
Why? I don’t want to have to censor myself to protect your kid. If you let your kid shoulder surf while you’re on Facebook, or you actually let them cruise on your FB page, that’s your business. But don’t ask me to censor myself because you’re being so free and liberal with your kid.
Tonight I watched the fantastic movie “Phineas and Ferb, the Movie Across the 2nd Dimension,” via the miracle known as Netflix. What I love about Phineas and Ferb, what I love about a lot of Pixar and Dreamworks movies is that they target ME as their market. If I think P&F are adorable, I’ll buy little plushies for my kids, I’ll get a Perry the Platypus t-shirt, I’ll tell my friends every chance I can that “They are SOOOOOO Busted!”
And if I feel like pulling an iconic phrase out of my past to punctuate my joy at the profoundness of Phineas & Ferb, I will actually say, “Pass the doobie!” It’s an insider term, meant to be caught and savored by those of a certain generation. It’s not an actual puff of smoke. I haven’t seen the Zigzag Man in probably 30 years, well, 25 years, and if you want me to leave a sample in the bathroom just to be sure, pass me a specimen cup, and prepare yourself for disappointment.
My activity on social media might be part of a bigger cultural phenomenon, but only you should raise your kids.
p.s. Kid1&2 read this blog entry prior to its being published. They get it. And they’ve never actually seen me pass a doobie.