Obviously there is a HUGE segment of the population that does know how to make a meme and right now they're all of Bernie sitting on a folding chair at the inauguration sufficiently bundled against the cold. Coming from Vermont, the only thing missing from Bernie's ensemble is a tattered lift ticket from 1984 dangling from to his jacket zipper. No one in Vermont walks around without a remnant of the last time they went skiing.
My wife and youngest daughter like to meet at Dunkin' Donuts on Fridays for coffee. But since the pandemic, the two local Dunkin' Donuts places have yanked the chairs for inside seating. Despite indoor dining being allowed on L.I. the DD outlets have lifted their chairs. One location has done this because they are near the LIRR train station and some homeless people wander in and take up the little seating there is with a perpetual cup of coffee for hours.
So, yesterday evening they coffee klatched in our kitchen. I do not drink coffee, so I continued to read the paper in the living room, but did start to drift into the kitchen near 7 P.M. to start dinner. On Friday's I cook. Believe me, it is nothing to write home about. But it is edible.
The living room is not so far away from the kitchen that I can't hear what they're talking about. My daughter Susan brought the coffee over and immediately asked my wife what she thought about the Bernie meme. "What meme? What's a meme."
My wife has just finished the day working upstairs where she's been working from home (WFH) now for 45 weeks. She knew nothing about the Bernie meme. This is undoubtedly because she does really work when she's on the computer, but also because when she's not working on the computer she's reading Fox News online. If Fox doesn't report on it, it's not happening.
I yelled from the living home that "your husband just wrote a blog about the meme." This means nothing to my wife since she has yet to find a way to care less about what I write. Which is a good and bad thing. I have no one who is interested in proofing what I write, but no one who I live with who offers criticism. There is peace in the valley. And two TVs.
Since the coffee klatch was breaking up, I innocently asked "does anyone know how a meme is made?" My wife quickly said "you superimpose a photo." "Yeah, okay, I know the verb, but what technique is used to do this? Photoshop? Special software. What movements of the mouse would I use?"
My daughter didn't really know, and my wife bristled at my question because she thinks I ask too many questions. Welcome to my world.
This morning my daughter Susan told me she asked her husband "how do you create a meme." He said it was a good question. "Probably photoshop and/or free software." Thank you Greg.
And then this morning, the weekend weathercaster asked the audience if someone could "Instagram her on how to make a meme."
Since the weathercaster is a young female, looking like she's not even as old as my youngest daughter, I hardly felt stupid about my meme ignorance. Yesterday, one of the people I sent my posting to replied I was what is called a "late adopter." Jesus, there's even a term for people like me. Hey, I'm 72 and should get credit for knowing what I do know. Once upon a time I programmed mainframes.
Regardless, my youngest daughter now admits to being addicted to Bernie memes and keeps me supplied with the latest. She's not creating them, but she lives in the universe where this is what you see.
Thus, I've been forwarded Bernie at Carnegie Hall, and Bernie at the bar at Geneseo where my daughter Susan matriculated. Bernie trading cards are next.
I suspect someone will make a Bernie compilation and post it on the Internet. Bernie in space next. On Mars; on Space-X; at the Space Station. He is everywhere, but in the Oval Office.
http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com
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