A few weeks ago, I was routinely checking my stats when I noticed a surge in traffic from Facebook. Not so unusual. All my posts are routed to Facebook, and a lot of folks view the ol' blog from there. The only problem was that I hadn't published anything that day, and the post they were visiting was rather old. My initial reaction was dreaded alarm. Something I'd written must have finally come back to haunt me, and in a way, it did. I was already considering damage control. A little sleuthing uncovered anchor man Fred Cantú's Facebook profile as the source of my new visitors. Some of you might remember a picture I had shared of Cantú's floating head for one of my Austin Pictorials. It was a sticker on the rear window of someone's car I was idling behind. Uncle Fred had seen it, uploaded it to a Facebook album, and kindly linked to my blog. Thanks, hoss. I immediately befriended him, and found, much to my amusement, his quick return to my blog in what my most malicious fantasies determined as a "how the shit did he find me?" sort of perplexity. Now you know, Freddy.
The story's not over though.
Shortly after my and Fred's virtual spotlit dance, the driver of the vehicle with the Fred Head sticker left a comment on the Pictorial post. Normally, I'd simply be amazed with the smallness of this world or more concisely, Austin, but I distinctly remember weighing the ethical dilemma of posting a photo of a stranger's car with a stranger's license plate online for the world to see. And the world does indeed see it. You'd be surprised how many international visitors an insignificant blog receives. So anyway, the scales tipped, and I chose the Dark Side with an affirmative, "Fuck it. I don't know this guy." Who cares if some anonymous Fred Cantú aficionado gets axed to death by a crazed blog reader? Not me. He was a good sport about it, but his information never showed on my statistics, so like I am to Fred, "Sluggo" is to me, and I am perplexed by his whereabouts. Except for this morning. Apparently the man lives nearby, for once again, I was caught behind him at a stoplight, only this time, I uncomfortably squirmed at the notion that he might recognized me, pull me screeching from my car, and pound the potpourri-scented shit from my precious body. The light greened without incident, and Sluggo and his Fred Head left me reflecting on the moral of this story: watch your ass online.
If you want a Fred Head sticker, visit Fred's Facebook profile. Proceeds go to Haiti.