Saturday morning in the home of CINDY and RON HOSKINS, both age 36, of Raytown, MO.  RON is sitting in the kitchen and looking at his laptop.

 

RON:  Nothing like sipping my morning coffee while reading the news.

CINDY:  What’s new in the world this morning, honey?

RON:  Well…Jim is about to head to Home Depot to get the materials for his bookshelf project, Debbie is off to get her nails done at that new place around the corner, Derek is really hoping someone in his fantasy league will trade him a running back and Marcy is going to meet up with an old friend for lunch today.

CINDY:  You really need a better news source than Facebook, honey.

(There is a knock at the door.  CINDY answers.  It’s JOAN, their next door neighbor.)

CINDY:  Morning, Joan!

JOAN:  Quick!  Look out your front door!

(JOAN enters and joins CINDY and RON as they open the front door and peer outside.)

RON:  It’s Rich and Tracey.  What’s wrong with Tracey?

CINDY:  Why is Rich escorting her to the car?

JOAN:  He’s taking her to the hospital.  To the ER.  Rich thinks she has FBB.

RON:  What’s that?

JOAN:  Facebook Blindness.

RON:  No!

JOAN:  Yes!

CINDY:  What is it?

JOAN:  Tracey updates her PPP for her Facebook page every day.

CINDY:  PPP?

RON:  Personal Profile Photo.  I only update mine every other day.

JOAN:  Sometimes she updates three, four times a day.  FBB is a temporary blindness from all of the camera flashes.

CINDY:  And her mouth is twisted in a horrible grimace!

JOAN:  Frozen that way from all of the phony smiles for her repeatedly updated profile photos.

RON:  You always have to smile for their Facebook PPP.  Show your long lost friends that you are beyond happy.  Or if it’s a photo from a distance, you have to have a landmark in the background.  My current PPP is of the two of us standing in front of the Roman Coliseum.

CINDY:  Huh?  We’ve never been to the Roman Coliseum!  We’ve never been to Rome!

RON:  Photoshop and my loser high school friends will never know the difference.  They think I’m an international chef.

CINDY:  You don’t even know how to cook!

JOAN:  Look…Tracey has a camera in her hand.  She’s still taking pictures of herself as Rich puts her in the car.  How self-absorbed can you get?

CINDY:  I hope this teaches you a lesson, Ron!  You’re spending way too much time on that stupid Facebook!  Try watching the news…or reading a newspaper…

RON:  A what?

CINDY:  Get outside and get a life!

RON:  You’re right, honey!  I am spending way too much time on Facebook.  (He takes out his Blackberry.)

CINDY:  Now what are you doing?

RON:  Now I’ll get my news from Twitter!  Look!  Gwyneth Paltrow is on the Master Cleanse diet and Ashton Kutcher is cheating on Demi Moore!  Oooooooooh!

(We see JACK and FRED sitting on two chairs in a cold, dimly lit room.  JACK is calm while he smokes a cigarette.  FRED is panicking as he stands and paces.)

 

FRED:  Oh God!  Oh my God!  I don’t wanna die!

JACK:  Calm down.

FRED:  Calm down?  Why should I calm down?  We’re on death row!  Not row row row your boat!  Thee death row!

JACK:  So I’ve heard.

FRED:  In minutes we’ll be injected with something that will kill us forever!

JACK:  Really?  I thought it was only for an hour or two.  Relax.  What are you getting axed for?

FRED:  That’s just it!  I didn’t even know it was a crime until they arrested me.  They got me for something called OBP.  Obnoxious Bragging Parent.  Judge said I talk about my children way too much.  Says they may be special to me but not to the rest of the world.  I refuse to believe that.

JACK:  So you’re one of those parents.  Need to brag to all your co-workers that Davey is on the little league team and Debbie is first chair violinist, huh?

FRED:  Actually, their names are Frieda and Fred, Jr. and they’re both fantastic soccer players!  Here, let me show you their pictures on their Facebook accounts.  I have my Blackberry right here.

JACK:  Here’s what you don’t understand, friend.  No one gives a shit.

FRED:  That’s what the judge said.  He said over the years I’ve wasted hours of polite friends’ and co-workers’ time so I deserve an excruciatingly painful death.  He wanted to have me sit with an ice pick and watch Real American Stories hosted by Sarah Palin on Fox News until I punctured my own eardrums and bled to death…but my lawyer got him to agree to have me lethally injected instead.  Imagine my joy when I heard the good news.  Why are you here?

JACK:  Shoulder lane driving.  Been caught too many times on the shoulder lane of highways.

FRED:  Ooh!  I hate when people do that! 

JACK:  What’s the big deal?

FRED:  Why should you be so privileged to blow by the traffic jam when everyone else properly…

JACK:  Properly what?  Sits in traffic?  If everyone was properly doing 65 mph and paying attention to the road while they drive, there wouldn’t be as many traffic jams!  Some idiot always has to get into an accident while I’m my way home from work!  The nerve!  Then every wide-eyed dope has to slow down to check out the wreck.

FRED:  I slow down.

JACK:  If people would mind their own business and drive the speed limit, we wouldn’t have traffic jams, I wouldn’t have to drive on the shoulder lane and I wouldn’t be on death row today.

(DEBBIE enters.)

DEBBIE:  Hi.

FRED:  What are you here for?

DEBBIE:  Nagging my husband.

JACK:  Serves you right.

DEBBIE:  Judge said I was a nuisance and I should be shot by a firing squad.

FRED:  What a cruel judge.

DEBBIE:  He’s my husband.  This is going to crush my family.  Just last week my sister was put to death for believing that American Idol is actually good this year.  And my grandfather was executed last year.  You know those express lanes at supermarkets?

FRED:  Your grandfather was executed for having more than 15 items in the express lane?

DEBBIE:  No.  He was executed for bitching and moaning about people having more than 15 items in the express lane…but not to the customer or the store manager.  Just standing there in line, bitching and moaning to himself.  Judge said he was being put to death for being cliché.

FRED:  My father was executed for snoring.  My mother was so happy that she spent the next two days on the phone, telling her friends.  She was then arrested and put to death for still not having call-waiting.

JACK:  My neighbor is being executed for having no life.  Ironic, huh?

DEBBIE:  What do you mean?

JACK:  He pre-ordered an Apple iPad weeks ago and still stood in line overnight this past weekend at the store to buy the very thing he had already pre-ordered!  He’s being beheaded then shot.

FRED:  Hey, can I show you my kids’ Facebook pages?

DEBBIE:  I don’t give a shit about your kids.

(WENDY enters.)

WENDY:  Hi.

ALL:  Hi.

FRED:  What are you here for?

WENDY:  I was walking my dog, okay?  He does a doody on the neighbors’ lawn, right?  No big deal.  I guess because I left it there, my dog and I were arrested and I’m told I’m getting put to death!

FRED:  What about your dog?

WENDY:  He was blindfolded, given a cigarette and shot.

From the residence of Harry Simmons, 36, of Coventry, RI.  Simmons is a private accountant, not certified or public, thank you very much.  The following took place the evening of 8/7/09:

 

HARRY:  Ah!  A nice, peaceful Friday evening.  The wife and kids are watching a movie in the basement and I’m sitting here in my home office, talking to myself.  Think I’ll check my email. 

 

Hmmm, what’s this?  “Susan Litman suggested you become a fan of Lands’ End.”  Great, more Facebook nonsense from someone I haven’t seen since high school.  Delete.  Now what’s this?  “Stacy Novak suggested you become a fan of Cheap Teeth Whitening.”  Huh?  Delete.  What, are you kidding me?  “Colleen Flemming suggested you become a fan of GEICO.”  What the hell is going on here?  Why the hell would I want to become a fan of a car insurance company?  Why are these people from two decades ago sending me this crap???

 

“Susan Litman suggested you become a fan of Gary Coleman.”  What?  “John Lawrence suggested you become a fan of Freaks and Geeks.”  Why?  It was canceled ten years ago!  “Susan Litman suggested you become a fan of Flipping the Pillow Over To Get To The Cold Side.”  What does that mean?  Delete, delete, delete, delete!

 

One hour later…

 

HARRY:  “Susan Litman suggested you become a fan of Sky Motored Cars.” DELETE!  “John Lawrence suggested you become a fan of silly string.”  What the hell?  I’m 36, not 11!  DELETE!  “Stacy Novak suggested you become a fan of the Art of the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.”  What the hell does that even mean?  Jesus!  What a bunch of losers!  Why did I even join Facebook???

(Suddenly, there is a loud explosion and what remains of the front door rains in the home office amidst a cloud of smoke.  Clearly stunned, HARRY is dazed as two men dressed in S.W.A.T. looking gear enter the kitchen.  Both are wearing helmets and carrying guns.)

HARRY:  My God!  What is going on?  Who are you people?

OFFICER #1:  We’re the Facebook Police.

HARRY:  The Facebook Police?

OFFICER #2:  You are Harry Simmons, age 36, of 2416 Hilltop Drive?

HARRY: Yes, but…

OFFICER #1:  It has come to our attention that you have not become a fan of anything on Facebook.

OFFICER #2:  Ever.

HARRY:  Because it’s stupid.

OFFICER #1:  Excuse me?

HARRY:  It’s stupid.  It’s juvenile.  Why do I need to become a fan of such worthless crap?  Why would anyone want to waste their precious time with such nonsense?  Look at this…while you’ve been here harassing me, I’ve been invited to become a fan of “People Who Become Fans Of Things on Facebook.”

OFFICER #2:  Sir, don’t you dare hit delete.

HARRY:  I just did.  And now I’m going to dial 9-1-1.

OFFICER #1:  Get him.

(The two OFFICERS grab HARRY and pull him away from the computer.  OFFICER #1 begins to pry open HARRY’s mouth.  As HARRY screams, OFFICER #2 takes a little bottle of liquid out of his vest and pours it down HARRY’s throat.)

OFFICER #2:  That’s it.  Drink the Facebook Juice.  Good.  (The two OFFICERS let him go.  HARRY’s face turns blank as he turns his chair to his computer.)

HARRY:  Must become…fan…of…pointless things…on…Facebook.

OFFICER #1:  The Facebook Juice has taken effect.  Our work here is done.  (They open fire on a bay window in the living room and jump through the shards.)

HARRY: (now sounding a bit like William Shatner):  Yes…I’ll become…a fan…of “Captain Kangaroo Forever” and “Norman Fell” and “Raw Cookie Dough”, and “Tron” and “Laughing When Somebody Falls” and “Hot Showers” and “Yogurt That Has Fruit On The Bottom” and “Hugs” and “The Banana Splits” on Facebook…on Facebook…on Facebook…on Facebook… on Facebook… on Facebook…

The following is yet another letter from Paul to the Corinthians, circa 46 A.D.  What occurred afterwards was deleted from the New Testament as early as 1200 A.D. but will be included in the upcoming edition of the St. James Bible which features bloopers, outtakes and practical jokes.

 

The Eighth Letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians

Dear Corinthians,

Hi.  It’s Paul again.  I’m not sure why you haven’t responded to my other seven letters.  I sent you those letters to proclaim the miracle of Facebook, the free-access social networking website.  I wrote you those previous letters describing my experiences with Facebook and you never responded.  The least you could have done was acknowledge those letters.  I spent quite a bit of time writing them to you…the Colossians…the Thessalonians.  You better write back.  At least be my friend on FB.

Yours Truly,

St. Paul

 

MRS. CORINTHIAN:  John!  It’s another letter from that guy St. Paul!  What are we going to do?

MR. CORINTHIAN:  I don’t know, Gladys.  I just don’t know.  He wants us to write back but there’s never a return address!

MRS. CORINTHIAN:  I’m scared, John!  I’m afraid to step outside!  I haven’t let the children out to play since the fifth letter!  What if…what if he’s out there?  Watching us like some maniac?

MR. CORINTHIAN:  Ignoring his letters isn’t doing the trick.  Look, we all need to relax.  Let’s go on the computer and check out Facebook.  I’ve ignored Paul’s request to be his friend so he can’t bother us there.

MRS. CORINTHIAN:  And this man calls himself a saint…

(Sounds of kids screaming.)

JANICE:  Mom!  Dad!  Julius and I were just on Facebook and that guy Paul sent us three quiz requests! 

MR. CORINTHIAN:  Impossible!  I’ve ignored his friend request!

JANICE:  Oops!  I accepted it, Dad.  I needed one more friend to hit 300.  Now I’m like totally popular…even though I haven’t seen any of those friends in months because all we do is sit at our computers…

JULIUS:  Dad!  He sent us the quiz request for “What B.C. Songs Describe Your Life?”

JANICE:  And “Who Were You in a Past Life?”

JULIUS:  And “What Characters From a Sophocles Play Best Describe You and Your Circle of Friends?”

MR. CORINTHIAN:  I have a one-question quiz for Paul:  “Who gives a shit?”

JANICE:  Looks like he just sent us a drink!

MR. CORINTHIAN:  What the hell does that mean?  Why would someone email a drink to someone else?

JULIUS:  And a request for us to take an I.Q. test!

JANICE:  Uh-oh.  He wants us to update our status.

JULIUS:  And he tagged us in a sculpture.  He also just sent us a virtual poke. 

MRS. CORINTHIAN:  What does that even mean?  None of this makes sense to me!

(MR. CORINTHIAN picks up their laptop and smashes it on the floor.)

MR. CORINTHIAN:  That settles it.  No more Paul and no more Facebook!

(The telephone rings.  JANICE picks it up.)

JANICE:  Hello?  Hello?  Dad?  There’s nothing but heavy breathing.

MR. CORINTHIAN:  Let me have it, dear.  Hello?  Hello?!  Is this Paul?  If so, stop sending us those letters!  And stop sending us that stupid shit on Facebook!  You’re making me regret ever signing up for it!  It’s supposed to be a work and social network; not a place for you to try to recapture your youth or to attempt to cure your loneliness by sending out mindless crap throughout the day, hoping for a response!  No one needs to know what you’re doing at all hours!  And if you send me one more virtual gift…!

PAUL:  You shouldn’t have smashed your laptop, John.  You should have responded to my letters.  You should have sent me back a drink or a poke or a virtual gift!  You should have taken the time to do one of those 37 quizzes I’ve sent you!  The Colossians obeyed.

MR. CORINTHIAN:  I know!  They’re my next door neighbors.  They weren’t ready to convert from MySpace yet!  It was too soon!  Now we haven’t seen them in months, thanks to you!!!

JULIUS:  Dad!  It’s the police on your cell phone!

MR. CORINTHIAN:  Wait a minute!  How did you know I smashed my laptop, Paul?  (He grabs the cell phone.)

POLICE:  Mr. Corinthian?  We traced the call!  Get your family out of the house!  The call is coming from upstairs!!  St. Paul is in your house!

MR. CORINTHIAN:  Oh…my…God…

(There is the sound of a bedroom door creaking open at the top of the stairs.)

POLICE:  Get out of the house, Mr. Corinthian!

(What follows on the police tape are screams and cries and then silence as the call was disconnected.  The police arrived at the Corinthian household minutes later to find the house in shambles but the Corinthians sitting at their kitchen table, apparently unharmed.)

POLICE:  Are you okay?

MR. CORINTHIAN:  Yes, Officer.  Paul didn’t harm us.

POLICE:  What happened?

MRS. CORINTHIAN:  My husband told him that we were no longer fans of Facebook and that we’re now signing on with Twitter.  We told Paul we’ve always wanted to be Tweeters.

MR. CORINTHIAN:  At the sound of Twitter he crumpled to the ground, screaming “Blasphemy!”  He then ran off to our neighbors across the street, the Thessalonians, claiming it’s not too late for them. 

POLICE:  Thanks.  We’ll get the bastard.  We’ll get him before this Facebook madness spreads.  People need to learn they have no right to clog up your computer with such senseless crap.  By the way, would you folks like to check out my blog?

(The Corinthian family screams as we cut to black.)

From the residence of Karen Windsor, 38, of Towson, MD.  Karen is a Benefits Coordinator for a large marketing company.  She is married to her husband Ted, 39, and the two have a son, Michael, age 10.  The following took place the evening of February 16, 2009, in their home.

 

(SCENE:  KAREN, TED and MICHAEL are sitting at their kitchen table.  KAREN and TED are discussing their days as they dish out the evening’s meal.)

 

TED:  This smells really good, honey!

KAREN:  Joint effort, hon.  You did the actual barbecuing.

MICHAEL:  Who’s going to take me to basketball practice tonight?

TED:  I can take you, son.  I’m looking forw—

(Suddenly, there is a loud explosion and what remains of the front door rains in the kitchen amidst a cloud of smoke.  Clearly stunned, the Windsors are dazed as two men dressed in S.W.A.T. looking gear enter the kitchen.  Both are wearing helmets and carrying guns.)

TED:  My God!  What is going on?  Who the hell are you?

OFFICER #1:  We’re the Facebook Police.

KAREN:  The Facebook Police?

OFFICER #2:  You are Karen Windsor, age 38, of 324 Barkham Drive?

KAREN:  That’s me.

OFFICER #1:  It has come to our attention that you have not been on Facebook in 38 minutes.

TED:  How dare you…!  (OFFICER #2 clubs TED on the back of the head with his gun.  TED crumples to the floor.)

MICHAEL:  Dad!

OFFICER #2:  Shut it, kid!  Ma’am, Facebook needs an explanation regarding your prolonged absence.

KAREN:  Prolonged absence?  It’s only been 38 minutes!

OFFICER #1:  39.

KAREN:  Is that now a crime?  Who cares if I haven’t been on the site?

OFFICER #2:  Facebook does, ma’am.  You have friends out there who have recent status updates.  Three of your friends tagged you in photos in the past half hour and you have not addressed them yet!

KAREN:  I was preparing dinner for my family!

OFFICER #1:  Facebook is family!  18 of your friends have provided you with soundtracks of their lives and you have not reciprocated!  If your life was a movie, ma’am, there are people out there who need to know what your soundtrack would be!

OFFICER #2:  53 of your friends have sent you “25 Random Things” about themselves and you have not responded! 

KAREN:  Who has time for such nonsense?  I work!  I have a family!  I have a household to run!

OFFICER #1:  Do you not realize that those people need to know 25 random things about Karen Windsor???

KAREN:  Back off!  I have a LIFE!!!

(The Facebook Police look at one another in stunned silence.)

OFFICER #2:  When you signed on with Facebook, ma’am, you relinquished that life.  I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.

OFFICER #1:  Hold on a sec, big guy.  Just got word from HQ that some guy up the street hasn’t addressed several recent pokes.

OFFICER #2:  Are you kidding me?

OFFICER #1:  Looks like he hasn’t been on Facebook in nearly three hours!

OFFICER #2:  Sonofabitch!  Alright, ma’am, looks like you lucked out tonight.  If you don’t want to see the Facebook Police again, you had better get your ass back on immediately and update your profile pic or update your status or send a gift or tag someone in a photo or join a group or send someone a drink!

OFFICER #1:  Why can’t people like you understand that everyone needs to know whether you bought  new flooring for the kitchen or didn’t have to wake up to an alarm today or are helping your child with his or her school project or whether you’re using one or two-ply!

OFFICER #2:  And you better have 300 friends by Friday……….or we’ll be back.

(They open fire on a kitchen window and jump through the shards.  KAREN and MICHAEL immediately come to the unconscious TED’s side.)

KAREN:  He’s breathing.  He’ll be okay.

MICHAEL:  Mommy?  What is Facebook?

(KAREN ignores him as she sits at the computer.  She has a dazed look on her face as she types.)

MICHAEL:  Mommy?  What’s wrong?  Are you okay?

KAREN (dazed):  No need to talk anymore, Michael.  If you want to know how Mommy is doing, you can check her recent status update on Facebook…on Facebook…on Facebook…on Facebook… on Facebook… on Facebook…