I’m on Facebook. A lot, perhaps too much on days I choose to procrastinate. I am careful who I friend, but my profile is public. Anyone can read my posts and comment on them. I keep controversy to a minimum, though I do love this planet and its inhabitants and wish I could save them both. I read through posts on my stream as I sip morning tea, opening up articles I want to read on new tabs. I connect mostly with other writers, book lovers, favorite publications, writing related FB groups, a few television shows, organizations I have an interest in, and George Takei who can always be counted on for a good laugh. Facebook is useful that way: my own personalized morning magazine. I share my blog posts, all Blood Red Pencil posts, and other blog posts I find informative. Many times these posts go without likes or shares. I have no idea if anyone has viewed them. I admit my page is where forwarding schemes and chain letters go to die. I don’t want to know about your pretend...