Tuesday, April 25, 2017


I may not take them myself I have my sweet, sweet Kellyanne to capture my good side but I can tell you, I know plenty about selfies. In the history of Presidents of the United States, there has NEVER been any other President who knows more about taking pictures of yourself with your phone at arm’s length to make yourself appear fitter, smarter, cooler and generally way more attractive than you ever thought humanly possible. 

My wife is a pro, but in her case, the pics don’t lie. Folks, they don’t lie. On a scale of 1 to 10, Melania is at least a 13 and a half. I don’t get to see her very much these days, but, my God, is she beautiful or what? TOTAL babe. Hottchachachacha. Like my daughter, she’s a real piece of ass. 

What?! The POTUS shouldn’t say that about his own daughter? That’s what the bleeding heart liberal fake news would have you believe. To the ultraliberals, the peddlers of so-called truth, the climate change whiners, the illegals, the radical Islamic terrorists, the CHYNESE, the PATHETIC Rosie O’Donnell-loving women who eat Ben and Jerry’s straight from the pint, the haters of my MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN hats, the sudden Arnold Schwarzenegger bandwagoners, I say, YOU ARE ALL A BUNCH OF WEAK POLITICALLY CORRECT MORON LIGHTWEIGHT LOSERS. 

And guess what? I won! I promised you more winning and that promised winning started with the best, most FINE-TUNED President ever, ME! I can say and do whatever I want now! #EVENMOREWINNING!!

Okay, okay, I realize I’ve strayed from the point, just like I’ve strayed from STUPID and BORING conventional wisdoms like common decency, fidelity and honesty. 

Anyway, I can certainly understand why so many of you would want a selfie with me, the ULTIMATE deal maker, the KING of screwing people back in spades, the founding member of the LUCKY sperm club. So no matter how UGLY or FAT or DISGUSTING you are, I suppose I’ll humor you. 

But for the sake of the country, please stand behind me. 


There is this picture of my nieces and my daughter taken on one of those glorious spring days we Michiganders crave at about the beginning of every January. It was snapped on their Nana’s (aka my mother-in-law) lawn just this past Easter. 

The shot is quite possibly the cutest selfie ever taken in the history of selfies. Seriously, I say that with sincerity. It’s lovely, and I love its pure and simple loveliness.  

That said, I’ll go ahead and own it: I think selfies are kind of dumb. They’re awkward at the very least. With respect to many of them I’ve taken (or attempted taking), I’ve often found the experience both silly and a touch unsettling. I wonder, do other Gen Xers feel this way? What about Boomers? 

I admit, part of my uneasiness stems from my own insecurities. I’ve never gone gaga over photos of myself. (When did I get so wrinkled? Or rear a third chin? Or style my hair like Eddie Vedder? Or, egads, grow the faint shadow of a porn ‘stache? How come my teeth look like I smoke a pack a day? Why is my butt so big? I can’t even see it from this angle, but I bet it looks YUGE.) 

Then there’s the psychology of it. 

Why do I need so many pictures of myself anyway? I don’t recall cramming various snapshots of me, myself and I in the back pocket of my pinstriped Jordache jeans in high school. So why must I archive album upon album of selfies now? Why must I relentlessly post these selfies on INSERT SOCIAL MEDIA SITE DU JOUR?

Look, if you’re a big fan of selfies, don’t take this the wrong way. I’m throwing no stones. (Unless you’re last name begins with Kar and ends with dasian. Five-hundred and seven pictures of your perfectly fantastic ass. Probably sufficient.) I do not abstain from taking them either, so please keep calm and selfie on. Consider this suggestion a moral obligation.  

Like I’ve already said, I’ve seen selfies I myselfie can get behind. Personal favorite: bare-chested dude riding atop unicorn outside the Colosseum. Okay, that one doesn’t exist (at least in my feed), but it sounds awesome, doesn’t it? In general, I’m a sucker for selfies doing or visiting cool stuff/places, and ones with or of animals and kids. Because if you don’t like animals and/or kids, you’re a green, six-eyed, four-armed monster who takes too many solo selfies of yourself eating microwave taquitos on a random Thursday or organizing your sock drawer on a Friday night, or pumping iron at any time on any day of the goddamn week. (Yes, you’re totally buff. Trust me, I don’t need a shred of photographic evidence to back up that statement.) 

Of course, I’m kidding (mostly). While I do think narcissism (everybody is a little narcissistic) and validation (everybody needs a stamp of approval or five) do play a role in the rise of self-portrait snapping, I don’t believe all selfie posters are narcissistic, soul-sucking assholes. Nobody’s tying us to a chair and forcing us to ogle all these selfies either (although that could be an interesting experiment/form of torture).  

Posting selfies is a form of creative expression and identity testing, and can have other benefits, too. Like hundreds upon thousands of likes. (Again, sort of kidding.) 

Selfies let you peek into other people’s lives without having to be that creep in camo doused in antelope pee crouched behind the bushes. They’ve been used to enact social good, too. Example: The Ice Bucket Challenge. (And to all the haters of aforementioned challenge, that ice-over-the-head business jacking up your feed did raise awareness of Lou Gehrig’s disease and boost its research funding.)

Still, while the numbers remain considerably lower than other life-ending culprits, selfies reportedly now cause more fatalities worldwide than shark attacks. The 3 leading causes of accidental deaths are shooting selfies from great heights (“Look, Ma, no hands!”), from in or near water (“But I’ve always been such a strong swimmer!”), and on train tracks.

Before I wrap this up, here’s a shameless plug: “What My Mother Fell For,” my story inspired by the strange trend of death by selfie. 

Perhaps I’m an introvert who’s simply more drawn to fueling her imagination or channeling her bliss or nurturing her fragile ego with words instead of pictures. After all, “I know words. I have the best words.” And for the sake of this GREAT nation of ours, I beg you to read and keep reading mine. I vow to always let you stand beside me. 

But please, whatever you do, don’t forget the selfie-stick.

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