NO SWEAT: If you've been losing sleep worrying about what Facebook knows about you,
consider this:

NO SWEAT: If you've been losing sleep worrying about what Facebook knows about you,
consider this:


I was notified last weekend that it was the sixth anniversary of my Facebook friendship with my own mother.  Actually, I've been pretty close friends with my mother for over 67 years now. Long-time friends. In fact, she was right there the day I was born.


Six years? That's peanuts.


And, if Facebook was as threatening and intrusive as many sputtering congresspersons now believe, it would know that this mother with whom I have been more than just a friend for over 67 years, died three years ago this coming August. So, if they're spying on me, their research is pretty incomplete. They might want to stop marking friendship anniversaries once one party has passed on. Just a suggestion.


It's important to remember that despite all the fuss about Facebook, nobody ever forced me to participate. I signed up. Everything I put on there is by my choice. I'm a big boy. And I don't need my congressperson to look out for my interests in a voluntary relationship.


If ads start showing up about some product they've figured out I want from some search I did, well, that can be useful. And if I don't like that, I can quit doing searches like that.
If I don't want them knowing where I go every day (I don't), I can get where I'm going without asking them for directions (which I don't). At my age, most of the time I know where I'm going anyway. And if not, I can ask for directions at a gas station. Or how about this? I can reach in the glove compartment and pull out what we used to call “a map.” The only complicated thing about a map is folding it back up again.


I like Facebook for keeping up with old friends and folks I once worked with, for knowing about the athletic achievements of my niece's kids in Ohio, for remembering birthdays and anniversaries, for posting the latest amusing picture of my dog Mitch (sticking his head in the dishwasher to lick plates), and for keeping track of how my friends feel about politics.


And if anyone gets too crazy or angry, I can block them for a while, and pretend they don't exist. Problem solved. If I'm really steamed, I can “un-friend” them, which is the capital punishment of social media.


And if I don't want anyone to know anything, I could just throw my cell phone away. (I've considered it.)


It's all up to me. I'm a grownup. A willing participant. And I don't need my congressperson to hold my hand.


FURTHERMORE: If someone sends you an email saying they're trying to get money out of Nigeria and they will give you part of a king's ransom to help move their money to our country, here's a tip:


If the opening salutation starts with the word “Dearest,” then your name, you should definitely smell a rat. People with vast sums of money to move from one nation to another don't need help from people like us, and they never call each other “Dearest.”


You'd think these international chiselers and cheats would have figured this out by now, and changed their spiel.


Maybe congresspersons worried about Facebook should direct their attention to these thieves who call me “Dearest.”


ELECTION TIME: A guy running for the U.S. Senate in our state says his opponent has been a big do-nothing for the time he's been in office. The current senator hasn't solved all our problems, so we should send this new guy to Washington to solve all our problems instead.


As the election nears, we'll be hearing lots of promises from people who want to go to Washington and show them a thing or two about the common sense, swell ethics, and hard-working virtues of people from (insert name of your state here).


But here's the real problem with this guy: One of his TV ads says, “Our number one export are our children.”
Our number one export “ARE?”
Problem number one to fix:
Make that, “Our number one export IS our children.”


Dave Simpson can be contacted at davesimpson145@hotmail.com