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Today I was booted from Facebook.

Oy, the embarrassment.

I’ve never met anyone booted from Facebook. It’s sort of like the time I was nearly ejected from Boys State for refusing to greet a Marine with “Hello, Sir.” But I managed to survive five days of Boys State hell, and even capped the experience by being named BEST ALL-AROUND BOY for my group (it was a sympathy vote. Long story short: The Marine’s nickname was O.J. I didn’t greet O.J. popular; he called me on it; I said, “I don’t have to call you ‘Sir.'” He screamed at me. I began to cry.).

I digress. Facebook has booted me (literally, I am invisible there) for trying to use the service to track down people for my current book project. Let’s say, for example, you want to find people who graduated from UCLA in 1979. You change your school setting and grad year, then go to FIND FRIENDS and search for classmates. I never thought this was anything by modestly ambitious—but apparently the Facebook folks weren’t happy. Now I worry my Facebook days have ended, which stinks. We’ll see …

On another note, tonight I spoke to a man whose first name is Coolidge and whose coolidgejpgnickname is Butch. I dare anyone to find another humanoid with that cool combination …

Jeff Pearlman is a writer.