Is it some kind of parody, mocking the ubiquity—and often the inanity—of social networking sites?
You’re too funny. Of course not. One night—who am I kidding—most nights I lay awake wondering if any of my old friends, acquaintances, or farmers I’ve never met had been victims of avocado theft. A case of the old hemidemisemiquavers, I suppose. One night, I did a search on Jimmy McCardle, an old fourth grade playground buddy. I purchased a background file on him, one with his phone number, address, criminal history, and credit report, and I gave him a buzz. He was a little taken aback—after all, it had been a few decades, we weren’t very close, and it was 3:45 a.m. Jimmy was confused at first—that’s Jimmy for you! But after some awkward back and forth and a little threatening on my part, Jimmy told me that he never had an avocado stolen from him. He wasn’t even a farmer. Then he hung up. One thing bothered me: he didn’t ask me if I’ve ever been a victim of avocado theft. (I haven’t. I’m not a farmer either.) That night, I slept like a baby on Benadryl, which is what I had had for dinn
