Sybil Bruncheon's Most Interesting Private Messages on Facebook...

1) Dear Sybil, I am not able to contact too many people right now because of where I'm living. I DID notice that you have a very attractive boyish quality even though you seem to be a girl. Would you like to have a pen pal? I like to write to good-looking guys, and you'll do nicely for now, until I get out and can meet you for dinner. Would you like to be my dinner? (Jeffrey Dahmer)

2) Sybil, I live in a far off place and have not been "on the circuit" in a long, long time. That's been fine with me, although I HAVE heard through the grapevine that Franklin Roosevelt is no longer the President. Will you accept my friend request and catch me up on some things?... especially on the unisex thingie with girl's wearing men's clothes! Thanks a bunch! (Amelia Earhart)

3) Deer SheeBul, Da vay you valked vas torny, true no falt ob yair own, but as dee rrrain anters dee soyle, dah ribber ahnters dee sea, so tearse rahn to a predestneied ahnd! Air you a vere-volf? You loook like dee vere-volf or a Franhknestine! Ah vould lyke to bee yure fraind, bute you mustn't eet me! LOLOLOL! (Maria Ouspenskaya)

4) Dearest Sybil, Glub! Glub! Glub! (Captain E.J. Smith)

5) Hey, Daddy-O!! Want to cruise around in my brand-spanking-new Spyder convertible! You look like a cool gal, and I dig really your muscles... if ya know what I mean! ;-) ;-) ;-) (James Dean)

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Sybil Bruncheon's "People In Poetry"…… page 78. "My Facebook Friend"...

My Facebook Friend never said “Hello”. Never clapped or cheered or wished me well. When I posted news or luck and such, He was never there to say, “That’s swell!”

He didn’t “like” my brand new job, my dog, My hat, my hefty raise, My move to Perth for three whole months And back again for the Holidays.

And not a peep when I met the boy Who then became my greatest love. Nor not a tear when I lost my joy, And he left this Earth for clouds above.

But my Facebook Friend posted ev’ryday And told the world his latest stuff. His rants, his raves, he stubbed his toe. No newsy thing was small enough.

He found some lint, he burned a cake! He cut his hair, and changed his vote. And we, the people, standing by Should clap our hands, or at least take note!

I’d laughed, and cried, and cheered, and “liked”. I’d clicked the Angry face and Sad. I’d praised and flattered like a fool. When he stubbed his toe, I’d felt real bad.

And then one day, I saw the light. At last, I knew I was just a prop. A thing to support my Facebook Friend. I faced the truth. It had to stop.

So late one night, so dark and deep. While moon shown high and Facebook slept, With MACs and PCs sound asleep. I pressed “Unfriend”. Away I crept.

And have I missed a single post? His so-called wit, his hearty heart, His learning, skill, his lint, his toe. Have I missed his news? No, not a fart.

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