Why Maps Are Better Than GPS

I like maps. Weather maps, zoo maps, amusement park maps, campus maps, maps that show where Major League Baseball fans live, maps that show how states have voted in Presidential elections, and the best hand-drawn American wall map.However, I have a special fondness for road maps. As a kid I’d spend hours looking at the atlas my grandparents kept in their backseat, and I vividly remember looking at a map spread out on the hood of a car at a rest area somewhere out west with my dad, plotting the next turn on our trip to California.When I was a little kid—probably only six or seven years old—with my mom’s help, I wrote a letter to every state and Canadian province and asked them to send me a road map. I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for Alabama, the first state to respond to my request. Most states sent me a map, some included other tourist information or a nice letter. I still have the maps, but anything else that came with them is long gone.I’ve written before about how I don’t have a cell phone, so it’s probably not too much of a surprise that I don’t own a GPS, either. Perhaps this makes me a Luddite. (I had to look up that word the first time I heard it: “One who opposes the introduction of new technology.”) However, I don’t oppose new technology. I understand why people like cell phones and GPS. I can imagine a GPS really comes in handy when traveling in a city where detailed maps are hard to follow, or when traveling at night and signs are hard to read. It’s convenient, for sure.But to someone who likes maps a GPS ruins all the fun!Last year my wife and I took our family on a 5,400 mile road trip to California. We didn’t bring a GPS with us. Instead, tucked between my seat and the center console was the 2009 Rand McNally road atlas. Although I’d memorized the route we wanted to take thanks to hundreds of hours on Google Maps (more about that in a minute), whenever I had a question I consulted the atlas.The advantage a paper map has over a GPS—besides actually holding the map in your hand, and the challenge of refolding a standard map—is that it allows you to see the area in context. If I want to look at a map of Illinois, I can unfold it and see the entire state at once. And then not only will I see whatever I’m looking for, but inevitably I’ll find some other interesting tidbit. Finding such things on a GPS is much more difficult.Google Maps sort of provides the best of both worlds. Its ease of scrolling, zooming, switching from map to satellite view, and the incredible street view feature is a map lover’s fantasy. I’ve planned numerous vacations using Google Maps, and I’ve dreamed about dozens of others.However, when I’m actually traveling I much prefer a paper map.My love for maps has rubbed off on my kids, as well. We can’t go to any zoo, museum or park without them requesting a map of their own to study. On a long trip they still prefer to look at their electronics instead of a road atlas though.Part of the reason that I love road maps in particular is because they’re completely logical, yet can lead to something magical.If I want to drive from here to Tularosa, New Mexico, I’d have no idea how to get there. But with a map I can find Tularosa and all I have to do is follow the lines. Simple enough. Yet along the way I might encounter an old section of Route 66 in Illinois, dozens of flattened armadillos along the road in Missouri, an old gas station featured in the Pixar film Cars in Texas, or an old roadside motel in New Mexico.Without maps we wouldn’t know how to get there from here, but we also wouldn’t know that there’s more than one way to go.Hey you, Blog Reader Person, how 'bout you do something nice and like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes?

Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.

Somewhere Among Millions of Options, Perfection

My perfect day. Is there a word for that overwhelming feeling you get sometimes when you have so many damn choices you don’t know what the hell to pick? Like when you go to Baskin-Robbins and you think “Ahh, 31 flavors, I can’t wait!” And then you get there and your brain almost explodes because there’s so much variety.Anyway, if there’s a word for that then I’d use it right now, because trying to write about my perfect day is like going to Baskin-Robbins and discovering that now there are seventeen million flavors.But that ice cream would still taste good!My perfect day begins around dawn in a cabin in the western United States, after I’ve slept for nine hours. I’m the first one up and I go outside for a run. It’s fifty-eight degrees outside, no wind, and the moon is about an hour away from setting. I watch it on its way down as I run west. Cool animals like buffalo or elk (let’s not worry about geography) roam in fields on either side. My run is fast and long, difficult and easy at the same time.When I get back to the cabin, everyone’s still asleep. I shower and begin making breakfast. My wife and kids wake up, and we sit around the table and eat for close to an hour because we’ve got an active day ahead of us.We hike some trails, all of which are rocky, some of which are in the desert, some in the plains. One of them ends at a giant waterfall. Another ends in a cave. A third crosses a mountain peak.We have a picnic lunch under a sky with cottony fair-weather clouds. As we sit in the middle of a broad expanse, with no people, buildings or cars within sight, a light breeze cools the eighty-five degree day. There are no bugs and plenty of sunscreen. The water is cold, the air is fresh, the smiles are genuine, the excitement palpable.After lunch we go back to the cabin, have soft serve twist ice cream cones dipped in chocolate or butterscotch, and then pile in the van. For almost two hours we drive to the coast. The kids relax, nap, play with their electronics. My wife and I drink fountain Diet Cokes and listen to Fresh Air, WTF and then some music.We park near the beach, spread our blanket on the sand and explore the tide pools. Crabs scurry about, pelicans fly overhead, sea lions sun offshore. The waves are rippling, but safe, just big enough for the kids to ride on their boogie boards. My wife is clicking away on her camera, then joins us in the water. Sand castles and sand chairs are built.Eventually it’s time to leave and we pile back into the van. Time for another ice cream cone, this time at a small ice cream shack on the two-lane road running along the shore. We sit at picnic tables under umbrellas and eat. A seagull hovers above my head and tries to steal my ice cream cone.Back at the cabin a chef we hired has prepared a feast. All of our family and friends are there. We gather around large tables and eat. The kids barely touch their food and then run off to the basement to play. The adults drink good beer that’s cold, hoppy and plentiful. Conversation is lively, jovial.At sunset my wife and I leave the party, go to the roof top deck and sit, just the two of us. We aren’t missed inside the cabin.When we return, the party moves outside. Everyone sits around a large fire, s’mores are eaten, ghost stories are told, more beer is consumed.The kids tire so we bring them inside and tuck them in. They’re off to sleep within seconds.The party outside is breaking up. Eventually it’s just me and my wife. With the sun gone we watch billions of stars and a late evening meteor shower. The night is still warm. Animals howl in the distance.Eventually we go inside to a quiet house, just the two of us.I might have forgotten to mention that my perfect day has more than 24 hours. In fact, it has however much time I need.And sometime during the day, the Cubs win the World Series.This post was written as a part of ChicagoNow's monthly writing exercise, Blogapalooz-Hour. We were tasked to write what our perfect day would be like, either in fantasy or reality.Hey you, Blog Reader Person, how 'bout you do something nice and like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes?

Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.

Apparently I Have Resting Bitch Face

I suffer from an affliction that I didn’t even know existed. My lovely wife happened to mention it to me over the weekend, and while we laughed about it at first, the more I pondered it, the more I realized that she might be right.Resting Bitch Face, or RBF as it’s commonly known, (I’m using the word common very loosely here; I’m not certain just how many people actually know what RBF is) refers to people, mostly women from what I’ve gathered, whose natural, expressionless face makes them look bitchy.What does bitchy look like?Your guess is as good as mine, I suppose, but a quick Google image search of RBF will provide examples like Reese Witherspoon, Kate Hudson and Anna Paquin. I’d say Nicole Kidman probably fits the bill as well.My wife’s probably right about my RBF. People are always confusing me for glamorous people like Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman.Actually, I suffer from the male version of RBF. I haven’t yet settled on a name for it, but something like SMF, (Scary Mean Face), or MHAPKWBSAFHF, (Maybe He’s a Psychotic Killer, We Better Stay Away From Him Face) would probably work, although that last one might be a tad too long, so maybe SMF wins by default.I don’t have to do anything to turn on the SMF. It’s just always there, unless I’m talking or smiling. But if I’m doing nothing, like just waiting in line at the grocery store, someone who doesn’t know me might think that I’m mean.My wife undoubtedly is the person most familiar with my SMF. On our first-ever mini-date—just before our first real date, and just after I friendly-stalked her a couple of times—she thought I was angry and didn’t want to see her. Yet, in a nod to my on-the-phone charm, she still decided to go out with me. As soon as we began talking she discovered that I wasn’t angry at all.Now that I know that I have SMF, maybe it’s time for me to start using it to my advantage. Chances are I won’t go on to win any Best Actress Academy Awards since I’m not an actor or a woman, but perhaps I can still have some fun.Some people need to dress up as a maniacal clown or a crazy scarecrow to horrify kids on Halloween. Maybe all I have to do is open my front door and not say a word. My silence would be creepy enough. My SMF might just send those cute little princesses and superheroes running away screaming.And the next time I’m at a crowded restaurant I’ll put my name on the waiting list and then just stand in the corner and say nothing. I’ll look around the room, try to make eye contact with all the other people waiting for a table, and see what happens.I’ll bet it’ll be one of two things: either I’ll get my table a little sooner because all of the other customers are scared of me, or I’ll have to convince the police I’m not a madman because all of the other customers are scared of me.I’m missing out on a golden opportunity to employ the SMF when talking to my kids. Yelling is for amateurs. The thing to do is just to stare. Next time they do something enraging I’ll call them over, make them stand right in front of me, and just stare at them. Even if they’re not scared by my SMF, it’s possible they’ll think dad’s gone mad. That’ll work.Hey you, Blog Reader Person, how 'bout you do something nice and like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes?

Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.Like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.

Hey, You're too Old to Trick or Treat

In the catalog of practically meaningless phrases, “How are you?” and “Trick-or-treat?” are roughly equivalent. If you answer “How are you?” with anything other than “Fine” or “Good” you risk suffering the wrath of the person who asked the question.And these days “Trick or Treat?” is similarly meaningless. When little ghouls and goblins come to our door on October 31 it’s understood that despite giving us an either/or option, they actually want the treat. This is partly because we’ve given the fun-hating, anti-Halloween crowd (or whackos as they might be appropriately deemed) the easy way out. Don’t want to hand out any treats? Fine, just leave your porch light off.The trick is now completely off the Halloween table.I think we need to put the trick back back onto the table though.One of the most annoying things I see every year is the ridiculous number of teenagers, and sometimes even adults, who go trick-or-treating. I don’t know if there’s a specific age at which kids should be forced to give up the tradition, but I think it’s safe to say that if you can drive yourself from house to house then you shouldn’t go begging for candy.Oh, and by the way, an old pair of sweat pants and a torn up T-shirt doesn’t count as a costume.My wife and I both take our kids trick-or-treating every year, but we also arrange for someone to sit at the house and hand out candy.(One year I counted on the children of my neighborhood to act in good faith and left a bowl of candy on the front porch with a sign that said “Take one.” We returned some time later to discover that not only had some jerk taken all the candy, but they took the snazzy cauldron holding the candy. Thieving jerks.)We need to get back to making these kids work for their candy, especially the kids who are too old to be out there in the first place. Let’s take the older kids at their word.“Trick-or-treat?”“Hey there, young man. Don’t you think you’re a little too old to go trick-or-treating?”“No!”“Of course you don’t. Well I think you’re too old. I mean if you can grow the beard for your pirate costume, then you’re too old.”“Hey man, just give me some candy.”“I choose trick.”“What?” The kid/teen/adult would be dumbfounded. He’s probably been so mindlessly repeating the phrase that he never even stopped to think about it.“You said ‘trick-or-treat.’ I choose trick. You’re too old to be begging for candy, and I’m not giving you any.”Chances are the kid wouldn’t have anything to say. He’d be so shocked that someone stood up for the traditionalist interpretation of trick-or-treat that he’d probably cower away and get the hell out of there.Although it could go the other way, too. Failure to negotiate with these candy terrorists probably only results in things too frightening to think about, but I’d bet that they involve some combination of toilet paper, tomatoes and eggs.So that’s why I’m writing about this in my blog, instead of actually telling those overgrown candy fiends that the jig is up. Chances are you don’t know where I live, so you’re not going to come throw eggs at my house.Instead I’ve come up with a genius solution. There have been years in the past where we’ve given out full size candy bars. (Yes, we really are that damn cool!) Maybe we’ll do that again this year, but we’ll have another bowl next to it. When someone knocks on the door we’ll answer it and give the little kids a full size bar and the older kids one of those “fun” size bars, or even better, a dime or a toothbrush or some other worst-house-on-the-block item.We may end up with a situation where the too-old trick-or-treater breaks out the legendary trick-AND-treat, but I’m willing to take my chances. It’ll be my own silent objection to Halloween madness.And if I catch any of those older kids trying to make good on the trick portion of the phrase, maybe I’ll remind them of the old urban legend about razor blades in Halloween candy!

Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.Like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.

Banning Lorde's 'Royals' Not Enough Help for Giants

The World Series starts tonight. In a town where each of our baseball teams finished seventeen games out of first place, that doesn’t mean too much. But to Kansas City, whose Royals are in the World Series for the first time since 1985, it’s a big deal.And in San Francisco, whose Giants are making their third World Series appearance in five years, it’s a big deal as well. In fact, it’s such a big deal that radio stations have reinstituted that time-honored idiocy: the song ban.Usually song bans are reserved for very “serious” situations. You’ll remember that the Dixie Chicks were banned from some country stations for saying bad things about George W. Bush, and Pearl Jam also felt the banning fire after a concert in which the lead singer “impaled” a Bush mask on a microphone stand.This liberal would think that in a city of fellow liberals like San Francisco, any sort of censorship would be frowned upon. But there’s only one thing more important than freedom of expression, and that’s the World Series.So in solidarity with the Giants, a couple of radio stations have banned the song Royals by Lorde from being played for the duration of the Series.If I was the Giants, I’d be mighty worried about this. Apparently their fans think that the team is so fragile that even the mere mention of the opponent’s name will tank the chances for the Giants to prevail.No word on whether San Franciscans hope to ban other Royal references like the Royal Family, Crown Royal, Royal Crown, or Wes Anderson’s film The Royal Tenenbaums. The NBA’s Sacramento Kings are doubly deserving of a ban, despite their proximity to the Bay Area. Not only does their current name contain the stench of royalty, they used to be known as the Royals when they played in Cincinnati back in the sixties. Call it the six degrees of royalness.These bans are unlikely though. Apparently Lorde’s song has a stronger connection with the Kansas City baseball team than just the title. If you believe Lorde—and who wouldn’t because it’s not like musicians would lie about something just because it makes a good story—the seed for the song was planted when she saw a picture of former Royals player George Brett signing autographs. He was still in uniform and the word Royals, written in blue cursive script across his chest, just looked “really cool.”Sometimes that’s all it takes for a writer or a musician to create something, and Lorde—who won’t turn eighteen until next month!—created a solid, mega-hit song.For a baseball fan it’s incredibly exciting that the Royals, who have royally sucked for most of the previous twenty-nine years, are having a miraculous reemergence this year. And I’m sure Lorde doesn’t mind the extra publicity for her song because of it. She even got to meet George Brett earlier this year.However, there’s one thing we shouldn’t forget about that old photo. Sure the word Royals on the front might have inspired a musician and helped to create a memorable song, but let’s not forget the name on the back of the jersey.Yep, Brett!Now I’ll give you a minute to scroll to the top of the page and see the name of the person who’s writing this post.Coincidence?So look out, because now I’m feeling inspired!In retrospect, I should be happy that the photographer chose that angle from which to shoot his picture that day. Had he chosen a different angle he might have caught the back of the jersey, and Lorde might have seen it and been inspired to write a song called Brett, and people would be banned from reading anything I wrote.Maybe not, too.Anyway, I doubt Royals the song will have much of an influence on Royals the team. And San Francisco’s stupid radio ban won’t have an impact either. In fact, I think San Francisco’s worry is entirely misplaced. They’re focusing on the title, when they should be focusing on the artist.I mean if the Lord is for the Royals, what hope do the Giants have?I’m picking the Royals in a sweep.But if they fall behind, then the band They Might Be Giants better not expect any airplay in KC.

Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.Like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.

Silly Adults, Disney Princess Costumes are for Kids

It’s almost Halloween, which means this is prime time for people who like to pretend they’re something they’re not. Usually this is all in good fun, and I’m all for it.However, there’s one group of people who should refrain from such shenanigans. I’m not talking about transvestites; they keep the fun going all year. And I’m not talking about various police officer, firefighter, maid, or nurse outfits that certain readers might wear in the privacy of their own homes.I’m talking about Disney princesses. To be more specific, I’m talking about women who dress up as Disney princesses to entertain children.Just stop. Please.Look, I understand the temptation. There’s nothing cuter than a little kid’s excitement over seeing their favorite character in the flesh. And some of those Disney movies are so enthralling that kids develop a Vicodin-like obsession with them.So it’s only natural that some grown up would go and ruin it by purchasing an adult-sized dress, squeezing themselves into its unrealistic proportions, and then sally off to make some dough by pretending to be a princess at birthday parties.Sounds great, right? Kids don’t know any better so they’ll notice the color of the dress, the fancy shoes, and the not-quite-perfect-but-maybe-good-enough hairdo and think that Ariel or Elsa or Belle have stepped off the screen and stand before them in the flesh.There’s only one problem, sugar. You don’t look like a Disney princess!I don’t understand the thinking here. I mean if a man wore a red shirt with no pants and went to a kid’s birthday party and claimed to be Winnie the Pooh, they’d throw him in jail!“Well Winnie the Pooh is a bear,” you might say. “It’s different for people.”Okay, fair enough. But if I put on a red coat, a hat with a feather in it, and had a pretend hook and a sword, would you think I was Captain Hook? No! You’d probably think I was trying to be Captain Morgan and offer me some rum while doing that stupid pose.Don’t believe me? Ask Disney. They don’t try to find men to dress up as Captain Hook at the Disney parks. Captain Hook is a costume with a fake head. And they do that because the dude’s funky looking face is part of what makes him unique.Woody from Toy Story, too. In fact, maybe the only male character that isn’t portrayed with a mask is Pinnochio, who’s actually a boy, and half the time portrayed by a short-haired girl!Yes, you’re right. At Disney parks the princesses are portrayed by actual women who show their real faces. And guess what? They’re barely believable as princesses. So if Disney, with their billions of dollars, talented costume design people, and ownership of the copyrights can’t make a decent live princess replica, what makes you think you can, Laura from Lincoln Park?Some kids might play along and pretend the princesses are real, but they know better, and they’re probably just trying to spare the feelings of the faux princess, who went through all the work of getting dressed up, and their own parents, who are only trying to make their children happy.By the way, I'd never consider dressing up as a prince from one of those movies. Besides the fact that there's no way I could rock the long hair or ridiculously cleft chin that some of them have, I realize that most kids would just think I was some dude in weird clothes.Which reminds me, what were the animators thinking when they drew the prince at the end of Beauty and the Beast? The entire movie's about a beast so horrid that people are frightened of him and can't stand to look at him, and then when he turns into a human at the end he's actually even uglier than the beast! They never made a sequel to that film because after it's over Belle asks the prince to go back to being the beast. When he refuses, she runs off with Gaston.Anyway, best to leave all things Disney Princess to the little kids. They’re the only ones who will ever look as cute as the princesses on screen anyway.Like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.

Acorn Shortage Leads to Squirrel on Squirrel Violence

Scientists are mystified by the cause of an acorn shortage that threatens to tear apart the squirrel community, but also promises a jobs increase for humans.Peter J. McIntyre, lead researcher for New Urbanists Training Squirrels, or NUTS, has been following the eating patterns of squirrels for two decades. Mr. McIntyre’s group has concluded that never before have so few acorns been available at this point in October.The acorn shortage threatens to change the way of life for squirrels—tree, ground and flying—along with other rodents dependent on the nuts, such as marmots, prairie dogs and woodchucks.Mr. McIntyre is concerned about the shortage.“We’re already seeing more aggressive squirrels,” Mr. McIntyre said. “It used to be that squirrels would run away from humans, but now there are recorded instances of squirrels attacking humans, especially around lunch time. Our initial research suggests that squirrels detect peanut butter from the sandwiches many humans consume at lunch. And as we know, squirrels don’t have the most refined palates, so they don’t care if they eat acorns or peanuts. We’re just thankful that baseball season is over. Having so many bags of peanuts in one place could really be dangerous.”He’s also warning the citizens of the southern United States to be on high alert. “Considering the millions of acres of peanuts being grown down there, it could be a bloodbath. I’d stay far away from Georgia, Alabama, Texas. It’s just not safe with all those nuts and so many hungry squirrels.”While most people would assume that the squirrels’ direct threat to humans is the most dangerous aspect of this new development, Mr. McIntyre warns about other repercussions.“What we’re really worried about is the increase in squirrel-on-squirrel violence. As acorns become more scarce, squirrels are willing to go further to get their hands—excuse me, their paws—on them. We’ve witnessed situations where squirrels are leaping from trees and landing on top of other squirrels in vain attempts to steal any acorns they might be carrying.”“Last week my partner and I witnessed a group of six squirrels gang up on a rather large squirrel. The six of them held down the large squirrel, while a seventh squirrel came and forced open the mouth of the squirrel victim to check for hoarded acorns. The poor guy just had chubby cheeks!”"These squirrels have no respect for other squirrels, or themselves. They're acting like, well, uh, like animals."Mr. McIntyre said his group has had some success in training squirrels to find alternate food sources in the past, but he doubts they can train enough squirrels to make much of a difference.“I don’t know if you’ve ever tasted acorns, but they taste like shit! I mean literally. Like crap. Really bitter, nutty crap. So it’s not too difficult to get the squirrels to eat something else. The difficulty is in getting them to trust us. I mean if we look at this through the squirrel’s eyes it’s easy to understand why they don’t trust us: most of their encounters with humans don’t end well. Either they have a body full of lead, or tire tracks across their face. Either way, not good.”A representative for Rocket J. Squirrel, from Rocky and Bullwinkle fame, confirms that Rocky is also feeling the acorn squeeze. Alvin, Simon and Theodore, however, gave up acorns a long time ago according to their rep. “They’ve been eating human food for decades,” an anonymous source reports. “Prima donnas, every single one of them.”NUTS will continue working with any squirrels who want to learn to eat human food, but Mr. McIntyre and his team are prepared for the worst.There is one upside to the acorn shortage though. Mr. McIntyre suggests that as more squirrels die in the ensuing violence, squirrel carcass removal might become a thriving industry.“If this keeps up, there’s going to be more than just a few dead squirrels on the road. These animals are in real trouble. It’s like a fight to the death out there every day for some of these poor creatures. And after they die, someone has to clean them up.”Carl Bob Wallace from Stone Mountain, Georgia is ready for the squirrel onslaught. “Bring ‘em on,” Mr. Wallace said. “I like squirrel soup.”Like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.

Facebook as Idiot Warning System

Facebook has more than a billion users, and no two of us probably use it for the exact same reasons. We all know the popular uses of Facebook: sharing photos, bragging about your kids, raving about the meal you just ate, and stalking that person you don’t actually want to talk to, but about whom you’re slightly curious.There’s a more important reason to use Facebook though: It’s a great Idiot Warning System.First, let me explain what I’m not talking about. We all have those friends with whom we disagree about certain things. I’m sure many of my Facebook friends roll their eyes or curse me when I post something that displays my liberal tree-hugger ideology. (But to be fair, as I once read in a New Yorker cartoon, it’s not the tree huggers you have to worry about, it’s the tree humpers.)And I have plenty of friends who post things that I disagree with. There are conservatives, Cardinals fans, pop music fans, and various other deviant behaviors represented on my friends list.Those are personal differences that probably only arise when discussing politics, sports or some other topics. Avoid those topics and those people are probably cool and fun to be around.The Idiot Warning System applies to a special group of people: by definition, idiots.We all have these people on our friends list. If you’ve ever read a post and your first reaction was, “What the hell?” then you know what I’m talking about.These posts are usually shared posts, as idiots love company. And even when they look like original posts, if you dig a little deeper you’ll probably discover that they’re just parroting lame-brain ideas they’ve read elsewhere.So what kind of posts should you keep an eye out for? There are several indicators that make the Idiot Warning System (IWS) so effective.The most glaring marker that is sure to set off the IWS is any post that shares information that claims to “uncover the truth” or “reveal” a secret. Most of these posts are far-out conspiracy theories written for no other reason than people will believe them and share them. Read as fiction, these posts can be entertaining. However, the people who believe them to be true definitely fall under the IWS.Another category you should look out for are the single-issue Facebook users. We all have things we’re interested in, and we’ll all post something about those interests. The IWS kicks in when those interests become obsessions. Most of the time these are political interests.Hey Mr. “Gun Rights” man, you think your right to a gun trumps every other person’s right to anything else. I get it. But no matter how many times you post something about it, and no matter how many cutesy/ dangerous/ threatening/ “patriotic” ways you post about it, you’re probably not going to convince anyone who doesn’t already agree with you. Time to broaden your horizons.I don’t know why Facebook doesn’t advertise its utility as an Idiot Warning System. It might be the most useful way that Facebook has changed our lives. Sure it’s nice to catch up with old friends, and it’s fun to peruse photos of people you barely know, and I don’t know how we ever survived without knowing what that guy we haven’t talked to since eighth grade had for dinner at the new bar and grill.But the Idiot Warning System might save our lives someday. For years the only way to root out the idiots were to get to know them, which requires a heavy investment of our time, or at least view them in close proximity, which poses a risk to our safety. However, the IWS lets us identify these people from a safe distance, with practically no time investment.Thank you Facebook.And before you send me a snarky message, I’m well aware that a segment of the population probably thinks that I’m an idiot, and maybe they’re right. But that’s why words like hide, unfriend and delete were created!So go ahead. Idiot.Like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.Want an e-mail every time I write something new? Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.