I just had to laugh, I saw the photograph

If there's one thing I've learned about the internet, it's I'll never learn.

A few days ago, I posted the above picture on my Facebook page. If you are not currently my Facebook "friend" or if you are unfamiliar with the weird, wonderful and often wacky world of Josh Pincus, let me tell you... I post a lot of stupid shit on Facebook. I know, I know — everyone posts stupid shit on Facebook. But, the stuff that I post has only one purpose — and that's to make me laugh. Not, necessarily to make you laugh, but to make me laugh. If you happen to laugh along the way, well good! But, believe me, that was not what I set out to do. I find a lot of things funny and they may not be the same things that you find funny. Honestly, more often that not, you won't find them funny. But, as long as I do... well, mission accomplished.

So, as I started to say before I interrupted myself, I posted the above picture on Facebook. It is allegedly one of the last pictures taken of The Beatles as a group. Supposedly, it was taken as part of a photoshoot at John Lennon's home on August 22, 1969. The caption I wrote to accompany my post read:

When this photo was taken...

John Lennon was 30.

George Harrison was 27.

Paul McCartney was 28.

The drummer was 30.

Now, the purpose of this post — as I have previously stated — was for my own amusement and it covered a few of my... um.... uh... shall we say "obsessions." First, there's my long-standing fascination with people's ages. I am constantly confounded by old photos of stalwart-looking celebrities or actors on television sporting gray hair and wizened features, only to find out that they were twenty or even thirty years younger that I am now. I still can't get over that fact that Carroll O'Connor was just 46 when All in the Family premiered. 46! Or that Brad Pitt and Art Carney were the same age when they won their respective Oscars — and that age was 56. I just discovered that Julie Andrews was just 28 when she filmed Mary Poppins. 28!

Secondly, this photo plays into my long-running, exclusively one-sided nonsensical feud with beloved (by some) Beatles drummer Ringo Starr. I have have a completely unfounded disdain for the left-handed Liverpudlian stickman. I regularly post jabs at Ringo for no other reason than it makes me laugh and it pisses Beatles fans off. Folks who know Josh Pincus personally and have kept up with my internet antics, know of my feelings towards the probiscusly-endowed percussionist — and they know (I think) that's it's all just a stupid joke that has gotten way out of hand. Now,  it's too late to stop. It's also too funny to stop.

Speaking of Beatles fans, especially Beatles fans of a certain advanced age — they are a relentless bunch. Beatles fans as a whole, are predominantly old, predominantly white and predominantly uncompromising and very defensive of those four mop tops. They spend a good portion of their time on the internet trying to educate members of the younger generation on how great the Beatles were and how you should not be listening to any band except The Beatles. Never mind the fact that the Beatles' last album of completely original material came out 56 years ago. 56 years ago! That is ancient history to someone in their teens. This was five years before the Vietnam War "officially" ended. To someone currently in eighth grade, the Vietnam War was fought between the United States and England and ended when the Constitution was signed. And Paul Revere announced "I shall return" somewhere along the way. Nevertheless, die-hard Beatles fan love to expound on how there would be no Oasis or Nirvana or Metallica or Taylor Swift or hip-hop or sliced bread or NASCAR if it weren't for the Beatles. But, younger generations (with a few "old soul" exceptions) couldn't possibly care less. To them, the mighty Beatles were just another band that their parent's parents listened to. 

So, I posted that picture and that caption and I moved on. I'm sure I posted a stupid sign or a misspelled headline or the death of some obscure celebrity. By that time, I have forgotten all about my Beatles post. But... the internet would not let me forget. The post got 87 reactions, 5 "shares" and a whopping 46 comments — mostly from people that I am not connected to... or even know. Most of them were furious that I did not identify Ringo by name, with several going so far as to actually tell me his name. Others haughtily corrected me on the date of the photo and the ages of the subjects. A few of those people went on to contradict each other on the actual ages. One of them pointed out that John (in the photo) looks like his son Sean, who is now 50. (Off topic and I don't give a shit.) One commenter felt compelled to leave the single word "Nope" as their assessment. I decided not to respond to any of the comments. Any reply would have set off a lengthy argument and I have learned that no one is wrong on the internet. 

My friend Kathy summed things up nicely by inquiring: "Doesn't anyone here know you at all?"

No, Kathy, they don't. Evidently, I'm not as famous as the Beatles' drummer.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

silver threads and golden needles

It's coming up on a year since I left the vile, bubbling, hate-filled cesspool that Twitter has become. I was pretty active on Twitter for years, but after psycho melomaniac Elon Musk purchased the ubiquitous social media platform, things just took a nosedive. Twitter became rampant with heinous, venomous bullshit and I no longer wanted to be a part of it. Besides, I was already getting my fair share of bullshit on Facebook.

In July 2023, the folks who brought you Instagram and Facebook launched Threads, a near carbon copy of Twitter specifically created to unseat the mighty microblogging giant. In its first week, Threads signed on over 100 million — 100 million — new users. I was there at the beginning, watching the joy unfold, seeing familiar names greeting an abundance of potential followers with heartfelt greetings of "What's up Threads?" and "What's this all about?" By week number two, the excitement subsided and things evened out and I began to ignore Threads, focusing more on Instagram and Facebook, both of which I use daily. One morning, while posting on Instagram, I noticed that a "share to Threads" option had been added along with the similar Facebook option. This way, I post to Threads and Facebook without ever opening up the Threads app. Great! I was growing weary of Threads and the "Hey everybody" messaging that was prevalent over there.

There's a music guy in Toronto named Eric Alper. Not being Canadian, I was first made aware of Eric Alper on Twitter. Eric Alper's MO was to pose (mostly music-related) "conversation starters" and then not wait around for the conversation to start. He'd post things like: "What was the first concert you attended?" or "What was the first album you purchased with your own money?"  Soon, he was branching out beyond the music business. "Does mayonnaise belong on every type of sandwich?" or "Do you like summer or winter best?" Then, while the replies would pour in, Eric Alper would already be on to the next question, never checking back to review the answers from his faithful followers on the first question. He never commented or countered or even cared about how many followers were responding. I found this to be rude and frustrating and just adding to the overall attitude that was slowly turning me off from Twitter. Elon Musk was just the rancid icing on the stale cake.

Recently, I logged on to Threads — possibly out of boredom — to see how and if things had progressed. I found Threads to be chock full of Eric Alper wannabes. Threads was overrun with nonsensical questions and easily Google-able trivia. "Who's the most famous person you ever met?" and "What are the best vegetables to put in chicken soup?" and "Do you put on a sock and a sock and a shoe and a shoe or a sock and a shoe and a sock and a shoe?" and the often posed "Does pineapple belong on pizza?" Twenty or so minutes of scrolling will reveal dozens and dozens of these inane non-sequiturs, all posted with the intention of bringing the author untold internet fame and the proud title of "influencer." All of this prompted the inner Josh Pincus to unleash his redheaded ire. I decided to answer some of these questions in the most Josh Pincus way possible, keeping up my brand as the internet's most loveable smart-ass.

Someone asked: "What's one Mexican food that you will NOT eat?" I answered: "Chihuahua."

Someone asked: "What do you think of when you hear the word 'debunk?'" I answered: "De summer camp."

Someone asked:" Did you ever like something so much, you bought two of them?" I answered: "Yes. Shoes and gloves."

Feeling cocky, I mistakenly tread into an area of Threads occupied by a bunch of folks with absolutely no sense of humor — Beatles fans.

Someone posed the question: "Who is the best musical trio?" Among the responses of The Police and Rush and Cream, I replied "The Beatles." and I sat back and waited for someone to take the bait. Just a few minutes after my reply, a fellow named "Bakemaster420" with a profile picture that screamed "I am so stoned," corrected my answer in a very matter-of-fact manner. He said: "Trio," to which I quickly replied "I don't count Ringo," Understandably, not everyone is familiar with my long-standing "pseudo feud" with the Liverpudlian quartet's drummer. But, this, of course, was the response I wanted to complete the joke. I laughed to myself because I do this for my own amusement and I am, admittedly, my own best audience. A few hours later, "Mr 420" added: "Well, that's pretty fucking stupid." I laughed some more.

Not content with ruffling some feathers in the staid Beatles camp, I wended my way over to an even less humorless group of musical faithful — Bruce Springsteen fans. Springsteen fans — the current ones, anyway — are an odd bunch. Way back in high school, I numbered myself among the loyal legion of Asbury Park's guitar-slinging pride-and-joy. Over the years, however, my love for The Boss has waned and I find his current persona as the raspy-voiced elder statesman of Americana rock & roll to be grating, tedious and downright irritating. Unfortunately, you take your life in your hands if you mention this to a Springsteen fan. Most Springsteen fans are in my age group (late 50s to early 70s) and spend their surplus free time trying to convince the younger generation that not only is Bruce Springsteen the greatest singer-songwriter-performer of all time, but that any other music by any other artist (save for Springsteen-adjacent acts like Southside Johnny) aren't worth listening to and one should be ashamed and even berated for doing so. Knowing full well of the consequences ahead of me, I decided to — in  RFK Jr. terms — "poke the bear."

Someone innocently asked, with the hope of becoming an internet celebrity: "What celebrity did you used to be a fan of but aren't anymore - and why?" I answered: "Bruce Springsteen. I think it's pretty obvious." The bear had officially been poked and the angry retirees lifted themselves out of their golf carts to come to the rescue of their beloved New Jersey crooner (that isn't Frank Sinatra). The first salvo came from a guy that asked "It is? What are you referencing?" I replied with a link to a blog post I wrote in 2014 in which I first confessed my love of all things Bruce but went on to explain how my admiration dissipated as Bruce's music — in my opinion — became less heartfelt and more of an exercise in corporate branding. I thought I did a good job of explaining my disillusion. (To date, that post got 585 views. You can read it HERE, if you really want to.) Well, this particular Springsteen fan couldn't bear to have someone — especially snotty little Josh Pincus — not like Bruce Springsteen. So, he tried to convince me in the most eloquent way possible. He told me "Your writing is fucking atrocious." Several more of Bruce's disciples chimed in. They attacked my writing, my opinion and my musical tastes. I am fairly certain that if I gave undying praise to Springsteen, my writing would have been compared to Hemingway. But maybe that's just wishful thinking. Oh, and each angry response was punctuated by "Dude" either at the beginning or at the end of their statements/threats. I ignored all of the replies and just watched as the palpable frustration grew and grew until they all just gave up... or I just stopped reading them.

For the time being, I have decided to lay off mocking the musical opinions of the ultra-defensive, ultra-fragile "Classic Rock" devotees. I certainly wouldn't want to keep them from cashing their pension check or taking their afternoon nap. So, I'll stick to telling everyone that "Fiona" is my favorite kind of apple and that kitty litter doesn't belong on pizza.

But pineapple does.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com