Dean Clough

July 9, 2021

Portico Darwin: The Ultimate in Virtue Signaling?

TODAY'S RAMBLINGS
We are off to San Diego later today to visit the posh new digs of dear friends Andy and Libby Baines Jones.  These guys bailed on our beloved SF for what?  The best weather in the US?  More room for less money?  No homeless people outside your door?   Sure, they're having a baby and all, but what's so wrong about the kid growing up in a $4,000/month 1BR/1BA here in the fog?  I am baffled, but maybe this trip will help me to understand?  I will report back.

Meanwhile.

A few weeks ago, I wrote this about deleting Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp. 

I meant it.  Recall that apart from the obvious damage they do daily to our commonwealth, Facebook was a client of mine while I was at TEECOM.  Enough said.  For those reasons and more, I haven't been on any of Mr. Zuckerberg's platforms in years.

But then I got some feedback from a talented young man who shall go nameless.  Well, OK, it was Kevin Monza and he said I should promote this blog on Instagram, if I had any dreams of reaching peak influencer and getting the resulting free trips to Thailand.

So I did it.  I checked my standards and beliefs at the door and did it.  For a short time, and as a few of my early "followers" can confirm (Rikki Aurich!), I was on Instagram, @porticodarwin to be precise. 

I made a few posts, got a few likes, and I started dreaming of my new life as a big Insta-influencer and a world of free headphones, clothes, and yes, trips to Mrs. Crup's homeland.  I even drafted a blog post that was to have gone out today, doing some mea culpas about the hypocrisy of it all, while still asking you to follow me.  Yep, I almost went all-in on building an Instagram following.  OMFG.

But then I saw this article on Zuckerberg and Sandberg in Thursday's New York Times.  (I've PDF'd it for you in case you hit a paywall.) 

After reading it, I immediately deleted my Instagram account.

Because much like the Bill Barr article I posted recently, this article - sourced from hundreds of interviews done for a forthcoming book - objectively illustrates Mark and Sheryl's political sliminess and what kind of company they operate.  While there have been bad actors in corporate boardrooms (and D.C.) forever, it is the scale of their insidious impact that is the difference.

More than ever, I believe Facebook is central to our country's divisions and crippling ignorance.  If you still use their products, I hope you'll consider deleting them.  If that's too drastic, perhaps consider lessening your usage while also tightening up your privacy settings

So no, this wasn't the ultimate in virtue signaling.  But it was me coming to my senses.

(But I'd still like to organically grow this blog and its audience.  If you're enjoying it - even occasionally - I'd appreciate it if you'd forward this link to a friend to subscribe:   https://world.hey.com/clough)

FROM THE UNWASHED MASSES
I was pleased to hear the SNL link in Wednesday's post brought a smile to some faces.  Lauren Ryder wrote

"SNL 1991!!!!   Hilarious. Thanks for the laugh this morning."

That's one of the all-timers - the SNL sketch, not Lauren, although she is also dynamite.

Cyd Darwin, a man who has published a book or two himself, was still justifiably humbled to be on the back cover of my Cookbook Volume II (I sent him an advance copy):

"I'm honored—looking forward to reading, preparing & swallowing!"

Leave it to the famed artist to get graphic . . . I suggest he start with the Spaghetti Sauce:  Your bro-in-law Harrison Heinz (no stranger himself to fine home cooking) had three - three - helpings at our lunch at Murphy Manor in Tupper Lake in March!

Thank you to any one that is reading this blog.

KLUF
In America, it often feels like this, and Facebook plays a major role.  Here is the British guitar virtuoso Jeff Beck and his great instrumental fusion album, "Blow By Blow". 

Fun fact:  Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page, and Eric Clapton all got their starts in The Yardbirds. 

Not-so-fun-fact:  Eric Clapton's autobiography is easily the whiniest I've read by a rock star.  Let me put it this way:  in the book, he complained about his superyacht

(Although, come to think of it, I myself was a bit peeved when Shelly had maybe one or two too many people onboard her private jet for our flight from Houston to Saranac Lake . . .)

About Dean Clough