Say It to My Face

“There comes a time in the affairs of man when he must take the bull by the tail and face the situation.” W. C. Fields

I once had a friend named Sugar Boy. I say once, because nobody knows what happened to him. Last we heard some state boys showed up in his back yard, strapped a straight jacket on him and hauled him off for ‘examination.’ He’s been missing ever since.

It was bound to happen…Sugar Boy had too many friends. He was that kind of guy…made friends with everybody. At last count he had assembled over 10 million ‘friends,’ mostly women, which offer a clue to his cognomen. He broke all friendship records on Facebook. His mental wiring finally overloaded, frying the circuitry. It’s an ugly sight to see a man come unhinged and reduced to a deranged imbecile. I cringe at the memory!

We warned him of the dangers of obsessive behavior, telling him that ‘No’ is still a word. But he was badly dyslexic, always inverting ‘No’ to ‘On’. He was strange that way.

He finally went nuclear in his backyard. We were playing cards and having a few rounds in the garage. Sugar Boy went inside. In a few minutes he shambled out of the house, lugging his computer and its peripherals. Two black pistols, both 12-round, 9 mm Glocks, were tucked into his belt. We abandoned the cards and walked out to see what Sugar Boy was up to. Guns always draw a crowd.

He slammed the computer to the ground and began kicking it viciously. He cursed both it and Facebook. He screamed invectives while jerking the pistols from his belt. We knew he’d lost control when he shot the helpless hardware full of holes. It lay there, belching smoke and emitting an eerie screeching sound, the computer’s last breath. Nothing moved. We stood in stunned silence, staring at the surreal spectacle.

Life goes on. I forgot the event until I read a recent article by Joe Queenan. He lamented how cowardly our culture has become in ‘defriending’ acquaintances. He cited a pseudo-scientific study by some obscure Brit (oxymoron) that theorized a human’s neocortex had insufficient storage capacity to handle more than 150 friends at once. He concluded that for every one added, one had to be eliminated.

I kicked back, poured another scotch and contemplated this hypothesis. I shuddered, remembering I’ve accumulated over 3,000 friends on my Blackberry. Sugar Boy’s episode flashed in my mind. Why can’t we revert to the ‘old days’ when getting rid of folks was easier, I wondered. But I knew the answer…our culture has taken the concept of political correctness to extremes. Our lives have become sterile, wrapped in a thick coating of Saran. Hey, “Look at me, but don’t touch,” our body language cries.

In South Georgia where I grew up, if a fellow had a problem with a neighbor he didn’t call a lawyer, write a letter or circulate rumors. No, he made a house call, invited the neighbor outside to discuss the issue. Most controversy got resolved without bloodshed. But not today. We are a craven culture when it comes to concluding things. We write letters, e-mails, texts and use caller-ID to do the defriending.

I once had a business partner whose mantra was: “If it’s important enough to say, say it to my face.” He spent a lot of time in the back seat of police cars. But what’s the problem with a more direct, in-your-face method now? Nothing! Except we’re too lily-livered to do it. We are afraid of violating people’s space with frank discussions.

It’s not easy to defriend people. We are, after all, a genteel culture. While there are many options, we seem to prefer avoidance and attrition over confrontation. Emerson once said, “Do the thing and you will have the power.” I like that.

With the recent animus surrounding our Friday Forum lunches, I have given much consideration to more direct methods of resolution. While Sugar Boy’s adventure of defriending his contact base was extreme, it did make a point. There are options, after all.

So, if you’d like to defriend me, then forget my email, phone number and address… just say it to my face.

Bud Hearn
February 4, 2011