Concrete pencil

For those not in the know (ler-hoohoo-zer), Faceache has a program in which you can compare your friends. Two faces pop up and the site asks facile, American questions like “Who is more likely to cut class?” or “Who is hotter?”.

You click through it, then go about your day.

But of course, if everyone does it, it becomes an opinion poll on you and on everyone else. You finally get to find out what those bastards think of you. And that’s some deep-rooted, primeval sh*t.

M de Tocqueville thought so. I should have been doing some work at home yesterday, so I was leafing through one of the books in my Idling Library. My Idling Library is a shelf of books that make you feel good about being a bum. One is called Hello Laziness. There are numerous issues of the Idler. The Importance Of Being Idle. Status Anxiety. The Buddha In Your Mirror. Book Of The Weather. That sort of thing.

In one of those, old Tocky is quoted as saying this about citizens of relatively rich, stable, nations: “When everything is more or less level [in society], the slightest variation is noticed... That is the reason for the strange melancholy often haunting inhabitants of democracies in the midst of abundance and for that disgust with life sometimes gripping them even in calm and easy circumstances.”

Strange melancholy! Disgust! Tick! Tick!

And now we can quantify that variety, we can actually compare ourselves in the standing of others.

So how did I figure? Gravitas? You bet. I am fourth in who can drink more. That’s my top score. That’s what my friends value most about me. Thanks, guys.

I am sixth in who is more entertaining (nice one). I am sixth in who is more powerful (ludicrous). I am tenth in most likely to win a fight (roar!). Eleventh in make a better father. Fourteenth in who is more famous (eh?) and fourteenth most generous (damning faint praise).

Then the pain really begins.

Forty-fifth in who is happier. Forty-seventh in who is sexier. Forty-ninth in who is more popular. Fifty-fourth most loyal (bad person!) Sixty-first most good listener (even worse!). Sixty-ninth in who has a better smile. Sixty-ninth! I am never smiling again.

And last but not least, seventy-fifth in who is braver! Which means I am, basically, a coward. Jesus.

Of course, it doesn’t really matter. It’s how you feel on the inside that counts, not how you compare. And I’m absolutely not currently thinking, who’s the best columnist on the page, me or the blonde.

Oh god, it’s the blonde, isn’t it?