Last Saturday, I inadvertently took a selfie. For those of you who are not familiar with the term "selfie," I'm referring to those annoying little photos that people are constantly taking of themselves with their fancy-schmancy smart phones.
The aforementioned photo occurred because I got a text message from my wife wondering what I was doing. I was at a craft show and, being the technology-savvy person I am, I decided to take a photo of what I was doing instead of telling her about it. I am just so hip and cool. And possibly a little groovy.
Well, somehow, I accidentally hit a button that flipped the camera around and it took a crooked picture of three-quarters of my head instead of my intended target. To make matters worse, I not only accidentally took a photo of myself but I compounded the problem by accidentally sending it to my wife. Stupid technology.
I, for the most part, have been a steadfast opponent of selfies of any kind. The only use I see for them is as self-incriminating evidence as to your whereabouts in a criminal trial. Nothing good can come from a selfie unless you're a prosecuting attorney.
The rest of my family however, thinks differently. My college-aged son is a big proponent of the selfie. So is my nine-year-old daughter. They both think nothing of snapping a picture of themselves doing anything and everything, anywhere and everywhere.
They have now influenced my wife into thinking that she needs to be taking her own selfies. Unfortunately, and more to the point, she thinks that I need to be in her selfies. There are two problems with this.
The first is, as my daughter has pointed out on numerous occasions, a "selfie" with more than one person in it, is no longer a "selfie" but has become a "groupie" or some other silly term like that. The phrase becomes mathematically obsolete.
The second, and most obvious problem is that I don't want to be in the photos. For as long as I can remember, I've had a thing about being photographed. I always figured that some day, a long time from now, after I have joined an organized crime family and become an informant against said family, it would be much easier to enter the witness protection program with less photographic references of myself floating around. I've seen the movie "Goodfellas" and I know how the system works.
To further illustrate my point that selfies are inherently evil, let me tell you another little story. Earlier this summer, I was fishing with two of my brothers-in-law when I caught a decent-sized walleye. It wasn't a keeper but it was a walleye nevertheless and it also happened to be my first fish of the year. For some unknown reason, and going against everything I believe, I vainly decided that this would be the perfect time for a selfie.
Picking the fish up in my left hand and holding it next to my sun-dappled cheek, I attempted to operate the camera on my phone with my right hand. Finally figuring out how to snap the picture, I proceeded in photographically preserving this timeless moment for all of posterity. I believe I even said "Say cheese!," so that the fish would know when to smile.
Evidently, walleyes have an aversion to the word "cheese" because upon hearing it, the lifeless, dormant beast suddenly sprang to life, slapping it's tail into the side of my head, knocking my sunglasses off of my face and setting my ever-stylish Chicago Cubs baseball cap askew upon my rather startled skull. Rendering me dazed and disheveled, I darn near fell out of the boat. Not from the furious fish attack but from the instability of the watercraft as my brothers-in-law rolled about the deck, convulsing in fits of laughter. It was a proud moment and I possess a digital memory of the event. Stupid technology.
I learned some valuable lessons that warm summer day out on that lake. I realized that vanity, like the well-muscled tail of a freshwater fish, can be a dangerous thing just waiting to hurt you.
But most importantly, I learned to never do dumb things in front of my brothers-in-law because they can act like real jerks sometimes.