My Lovely Face (-Book)

“This question should automatically trigger your DELETE key but, since AI has yet to advance to that level of sophistication, I usually yield to my curiosity and follow through, just long enough to get to the meat of each grift before decoupling. I prefer to respond, affecting a total lack of guile, and professing great concern: ‘Have I heard about what? What is it, please tell me at once!’”—Ross Konikoff

West Side Stories

 By Ross Konikoff

“George C. Parker (March 16, 1860–1937) was an American con man best known for his repeated successes ‘selling’ the Brooklyn Bridge. He made his living conducting illegal sales of property he did not own, often New York’s public landmarks, to unwary immigrants. The Brooklyn Bridge was the subject of several of his transactions, predicated on the notion of the buyer controlling access to the bridge. Police removed several of his victims from the bridge as they tried to erect toll booths.”—Wikipedia

MANHATTAN New York—(Hubris)—November/December 2024—Lately, I’ve been under siege, buried beneath a surfeit of friend requests from individuals with very suspicious sounding names, their text worded in a strange “auto-translated” style, e.g. “The charm of music is that you can never tire of listening to it, it makes people feel comfortable, and it can also relieve stress. Because of its regular melody, it makes people feel very rational, but at the same time it is rational and has an emotional impulse. Do you feel the same way? I believe we have many common views. If you are interested, you can leave me a message so that we can discuss further.”  

With trenchant analysis like that, how could you resist the urge to run to this woman, take her in your arms and never let go? (At least not until she starts squirming.)

If you do as I do—that is, click through to see the profile of the sender—you will find each and every feed decked out with pictures and posts roughly similar in ratio of subject matter as laid out in the following breakdown: 10 percent dogs and cats, 35 percent commercially photographed plates of food and floral arrangements, 10 percent sunsets on beaches, 8 percent a pretty Asian girl, unusually gifted with a sizeable balcon (the same girl, in fact, with every friend request) standing on the aft deck of an otherwise deserted luxury yacht, 12 percent of the same girl, posing provocatively in a largely empty, expensive looking health club, wearing slinky tights and a Frederick’s of Hollywood sports bra, and the last 25 percent containing photos of dusky ocean skies, captioned with the world’s corniest aphorisms along with spiritual clichés galore, each couched in a framework that screams “AI TRANSLATIONS” of highlights from the Upanishads, the Tao Te Ching, the King James, the Talmud, the Quran, and all the rest of ‘em. If that doesn’t convince you of her sincerity to bond, nothing will.  

On top of all that, I’ve been receiving the occasional dispatch, appearing via the “Messenger” app, from yet other ne’ers-do-well, offering, “Hello! How are you doing?” taking the more personal approach. None of these ends well, but I still follow along with one or two more benign exchanges before the inevitable inquiry: “Have you heard the news?”

This question should automatically trigger your DELETE key but, since AI has yet to advance to that level of sophistication, I usually yield to my curiosity and follow through, just long enough to get to the meat of each grift before decoupling. I prefer to respond, affecting a total lack of guile, and professing great concern: “Have I heard about what? What is it, please tell me at once!”

Then comes the bunco. It might be simple proselytizing, such as, “Have you found Jesus, yet?” (which is especially disconcerting, since Jesus is the name of our morning doorman, enabling me to, without deception, respond in the affirmative) or, “Have you applied for the latest government program, just gushing money and yearning to give it away to practically anyone?” or, “Have you heard about older women in your town, starving for affection?” Regarding that last approach, considering that I live in Manhattan, the answer involves one hell of a lot of horny women.

I like Facebook. I really do. But its inherent bugs put it in desperate need of a digital Orkin Man. The algorithms currently in use misidentify harmless phrases, names, and references as threats to world peace, resulting in one’s banishment to “Facebook Prison” for varying lengths of time. After all, how dare we tamper with the current state of peace now prevailing across our planet?

The platform’s problems with censorship, political extremism, pornography, conspiracy theories, and hate speech will all be worked out in time, I’m sure, but in the meantime, I’ll faithfully slog on with our lovable, fledgling social network, an enterprise still working out its kinks.

And now, a prediction: my use of the word “kinks” will most likely be perceived as an offense to someone, somewhere in the world, so if you detect a sudden dearth of witty commentary from me over the next several weeks, you can assume the worst.