The Tip of the Circumcision Iceberg, or Turtleneck Trouble

To D2's chagrin, and sometimes worry, I actively post on FaceBook (tm).  For a frustrated but lazy writer like me, it's an easy outlet.  Plus, the BEST poster I know, Norman, always post hilarious things that keep the otherwise dreary lawyer day moving nicely.  So I ain't giving it up.  I rarely post about Trump anymore -- I find my lefty friends probably more ponderous than my righty ones -- and there's plenty of bloviating going on politics without my adding to it.  I tend to post song lyrics, lines from poetry from my college days, news about my beloved Canes, and local issues.

Yesterday a local issue nearly jumped up at me, or, more accurately, nearly clipped me in the crotch.  As I was driving to the office after a breakfast at the Emporium, where I beat a hasty retreat after a very bitter middle aged Latina was venting to her friend about a nasty divorce she was having, I saw a group of about 20 folks at the 27th Avenue intersection shouting sayings and carrying signs, as David Crosby sang.  I noticed the men were in white, like ice cream men, but with bright red splattered on the front of their pants.  The signs had words like "mutilation" and there were pictures of babies (boys, I soon deduced) crying in agony.  I had stumbled upon radical anti circumcisionists!!!!!

Who knew?  Apparently Dr. Barry did -- he tells me they typically gather outside of Pediatric medical meetings.  Also, D2 sees them regularly in Union Square.  But this was a first time Miami moment for me.  As I was stopped at the light, a hippie looking chick (although a good 45 years younger than an ACTUAL hippie chick) approached with a brochure saying "Babies Can't Consent" and offered it to me.  I responded "No thanks, Sweetie, the ladies in my life prefer unpeeled bananas."  She smirked and walked away.

At the office, I immediately FaceBook (tm) posted about this, in my typical smarmy and wise ass way, saying that clearly all major problems in Miami, like crime and traffic, and even the climate change threatening to flood billion dollar Miami Beach real estate, had been solved.  I "knew" this since a band of cupcakes had the time and inclination to protest something that ought only be the business of new boy parents, doctors, and, I guess, rabbis.

I then continued with the quotidian business of the day, including lunch.  I then got a message from Courtney, an old college friend and active FaceBook friend, saying my post had been hijacked.  I went online and saw that about 50 nut jobs, not my FB friends, had read my post and were virulently attacking it.

I gleaned that someone had shared my post with the penis crowd, and since I had made the post "public" instead of "friends only" had, essentially, invited anyone to ring in.  And they did!  Essentially, I was deemed a penis Nazi.

I shut off the public setting, to stem the circumcision bloodletting, as it were, and my friends all weighed in, hilariously, of course.

And then I researched the anti bris-ites.  It has many gay guys and their fellow travelers (not that there's anything wrong with that) as well as "polite, liberal" anti semites (there IS plenty wrong with that).

The end of the story was an opportunity to air out tired old bris jokes (the mohel works for tips; if you hire the wrong mohel, you end up with a goil), and that's always a healthy exercise.

I also learned about my posting habits -- stick to friends only, even though, over time, I have acquired many friends of friends who I don't really know all that well.  D2 is right -- better to simply text friends than air publicly.

In other words, maybe trim back my FaceBook (tm) posts...