Facebook FlagOut crashes mightily in flames

Regrettably, it appears the illustrious and venerable Facebook FlagOut has crashed mightily in flames.
This is sad, because I’m sure it would have absolved the Delawareans from time required to administer this here site, surely a hairball.
We’re told the Facebook FlagOut was just an experiment, although as I recall:
—1) There was a heavy tub-thumping drive to get us all to switch to Facebook;
—2) We were told we were missing lots by not driving Facebook, and;
—3) The Delawareans were trying the shift administration of this here MyFamblee site to me.

Some of us joined Facebook, and some of us didn’t.
Me inadvertently by responding to a friend invite.
To me, Facebook was inferior to MyFamblee for a number of reasons:
—A) There was no “What’s New.”
Fire up a discussion-thread, and ya get get every comment ever made as if “unread.” The only way to know if anything was new was -1) know how many posts had been made to a discussion, and if anything new had been added; and -2) read all the posts from top down, to see if anything was new.
—B) Facebook seemed to have a character limit. I had to divide a response to Bill’s kitchen-drain freezing into two posts.
—C) What there was was one-sided and frivolous. Every nose-pick and belch was noted, and ya had to weed through ‘em all to see if there was anything worth commenting on.

-Beyond that, Facebook only flew HTML in a “Note” post; not on their FlagOut — although Facebook’s FlagOut flew a blog-link.
Plus any additions to their FlagOut page didn’t appear in your home-page; since FlagOut was secret. Ya had to open the FlagOut page to see if anything had been added.
Altogether, too much trouble, compared to MyFamblee.
And now I look at my Facebook FlagOut, and it seems to be dead-in-the-water. Nothing has been added in over a week. Seems the only one adding to a discussion-thread, was me.
I had to fly something on this here Famblee-site to get Bill to respond to my P-factor question.
Nevertheless, I will probably keep checking my Facebook, since it has posts from Marcy and Mahooch and Wheeler and the webmaster.
Plus the following message appeared in my inbox.
“Mole-dyoobie forever!”
“Holy crap,” I said to myself. That’s Lynne Huntsberger Killheffer, one of the few people I could make laugh. Most people are too serious, but Huntsberger wasn’t.
Huntsberger has a Facebook.
Continuing: “I’ll try to be as short as possible (although I tend to foam on a bit).
‘Holy crap,’ as in ‘I’ve heard from one of the few people I could make laugh.’
I’m married to one — I hope you are......
STORY-TIME
A few years ago, before retiring, I was working at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, and had a girl named Marcy working in an adjacent cubicle who I could make laugh.
I was old enough to be her grandfather.
‘Marcy,’ I said; ‘you’re gonna get married sooner-or later. Whatever ya do, make sure ya marry someone that can make ya laugh.
Do that, and you’re in it for the long haul.’
She did. (Lives near Boston.)”
And on-and-on it goes.
“Yo Bunnie:
I still have photographs of that time you-and-I tore up Milner’s hayloft (near Chadds Ford); so all we hafta do is figure out this ‘friend’ bit so I can fly ‘em.
I also have that ‘dippy-doo’ paper-airplane ya gave me in my ‘Azurian.’ I don’t throw anything out.
Sincerely, Moose.”
Royally screwed up (still am.......), but irresistible despite that. Although she was a laugher (laughers find me irresistible).

I should explain:

“Bunnie” was her nickname, “Moose” (as in Bullwinkle) mine.

“Mole-dyoobie” was a comment we were always making, to make each other laugh.

Every time I passed her house on Shipley, I’d “Bamp-Bamp-ba-Bamp-Bamp! BAMP-BAMP” with the Blue Bomb.

There was always the daily struggle at Brandywine as to who took her home; me or Jim Bowling. Bowling took her skiing, but I could make her laugh. If had had any notion at that time that the infamous Walton dictum about the reprehensibleness of men was hooey, a lot of things woulda been different. I coulda slam-dunked Huntsberger. —Bowling is now bald.

The “Azurian” was Brandywine’s yearbook.

Additional footnotes:

“FlagOut” is our family’s web-site, named that because I had a mentally-retarded kid-brother (Down Syndrome) who lived at home, and loudly insisted the flag be flown every day. “Flag-Out! Sun comes up, the flag goes up! Sun goes down, the flag comes down.” I fly the flag partly in his honor. (He died at 14 in 1968.) —We’ve had a family website for some time at MyFamily.com (“MyFamblee.com”), with my younger brother Bill and his wife (“the Delawareans;” they live in northern Delaware) as administrators. They tried to set up a similar family web-site on Facebook. —“This here site” is the MyFamily.com site.

“P-factor” is uncentered propeller thrust in an airplane. My brother-in-Delaware used to be a pilot.

“Marcy” is my number-one Ne’er-do-Well — she was the first I was e-mailing stuff to. Marcy and I worked in adjacent cubicles at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired. A picture of her is in this blog at Conclave of Ne’er-do-Wells. Marcy married Bryan Mahoney (“Mahooch” — ex-reporter from the Messenger newspaper), and together they live near Boston. (The “Ne’er-do-Wells” are an e-mail list of everyone I e-mail my stuff to.)

“Wheeler” is L. David Wheeler, an editor at the Messenger newspaper, and also a Houghton grad (‘91). “The webmaster” is Matt Ried (“Reed”), now in Denver, who was webmaster at the Messenger when I was there. —All are “Ne’er-do-Wells.” (“Houghton” is Houghton College in western New York, from where I graduated with a BA in 1966. I’ve never regretted it, although I didn’t graduate with their approval. Houghton is a religious liberal-arts college.)

“Lynne Huntsberger” was a former girlfriend from when I was in high-school in northern Delaware.

Huntsberger lived on “Shipley” Road near us (when I lived in northern Delaware).

The “Blue Bomb” was the car I learned to drive in, our family’s 1953 Chevrolet Two-Ten two-door sedan with automatic transmission. By then (1961) it was in bad shape, and was our second car. It was such a turkey we called it the “Blue Bomb,” since it was navy-blue.

“Brandywine” is Brandywine High School, north of Wilmington, DE; from where I graduated in 1962.

Hilda “Walton” was our next-door-neighbor in Erlton, New Jersey, where I grew up as a child until age 13. Mrs. Walton was also Sunday-School Superintendent, and warned us all that girls abhored boys, since boys were so reprehensible. (“Erlton” [‘EARL-tin’] is a small suburb of Philadelphia in south Jersey. Erlton was founded in the ‘30s, named after its developer, whose name was Earl. Erlton was north of Haddonfield, an old Revolutionary town.)