There was a time I considered myself a gullible guy. I thought that compared to most folks I was a wide-eyed doofus willing to believe pretty much anything.
Then came Facebook. Now I realize that not only am I NOT gullible, I’m a closed-minded, cold-hearted cynic. By comparison.
I base this realization on many things, not least among them the FB “tests” that promise an exhaustive psychoanalytical profile based on one’s answers to five questions from the Disney hit, “The Little Mermaid.”
I’ve noticed many of my FB “friends” are willing — eager, even — to believe absolutely any “fact,” no matter how preposterous, so long as it coincides with their previously held beliefs and/or prejudices. For example, if I posted a completely fictional article stating that President Obama not only wasn’t born in the U.S., but that he is, in fact, a space alien from the planet B6-12 sent to Earth to implant mind-altering microchips into all humans in preparation for the Big Invasion, somebody would immediately re-post that along with their own “See! I told you so!!” comments.
This, of course, is ridiculous. Everybody knows it was W who was the space alien, and whose mission — sadly for the B6-12’ers — failed miserably. Hey, don’t blame me; I read it on Facebook!
My favorite “gullibility posts,” however, rarely have anything to do with politics. They’re the intentionally absurd posts put up by users anxious to see just how gullible people really are. You know the sort: Bigfoot sighted in Kalamazoo; Underarm deodorant causes cancer; If you leave an onion in the refrigerator overnight it becomes more poisonous than drain cleaner. Stuff like that.
The best of these I’ve seen so far — and one that actually “got” me for a second — was the invisible paint. The post was entirely convincing; it featured video from the laboratory at which the invisible paint was developed, complete with scientific diagrams and jargon explaining exactly how the paint worked.
Had there been a “buy now” button, I probably would have clicked it before realizing the post was tongue-in-cheek satire.
In retrospect, I’m glad — very glad — that it was nothing more than a joke. Someone like me could not be trusted with invisible paint; I’m guessing others could say the same.
Sure, invisible paint would have some great applications. I could spray it on my piece o’ junk van and tell my dates they were riding in an invisible Maserati. I could spray it on my love handles when I went to the beach and then draw a six-pack over that with crayons. Fabio in a can! I could coat myself with it whenever my editor started hunting around the newsroom for somebody to go out on a rainy day to cover a rollover accident.
But that mischief is nothing compared with the uses I would have devised back in high school, back when the boy’s locker room was located right next to the girl’s.
Like I said, it’s probably a good thing that invisible paint posting was a hoax. On the other hand, maybe I only think that because of my Obama implant.
mtaylor@staffordgroup.com
(616) 548-8273
No comments:
Post a Comment