That we have Facebook to “keep up with friends” is this century’s version of “I read Playboy for the articles.” That’s what telephones are for. If you don’t care enough about the person to give them a call now and then, you don’t really care about “keeping up” with them—you’re interested in their keeping up with you. You want them to see the perfectly manicured version of your life that exists exclusively on the internet. Your ex will seethe when she sees the selfie you snapped with that blonde you met in Tijuana; no one needs to know her boyfriend showed up a few minutes later and sent you scampering out of the bar like a kicked chihuahua. That constant stream of yoga selfies and Gandhi quotes will let all the other moms know how profoundly spiritual you are.

The Imaginative Conservative, June 4, 2019

FYI: My life is not perfectly manicured. The zinnias have aphids. The squash leaves have stink bug eggs. The lawn is infested with chiggers. Stupid deer ate the stems that were this close to flowering profusely. And I don’t yet have the blackeyes planted. No where close to perfectly manicured.