While looking up a biography of
a poet, he came across a site
with a reputation score. What?
A reputation score? Is nothing

sacred? This one popped up on
Deborah’s birthday.  Happy
birthday, Deborah, 68. She scored
a 3.2 out of five. The good news

is that she is over fifty percent,
has racked up plenty of interactions
by age 68 and so maybe 3.2 isn’t
so bad for all that. The bad news is

that by 68, she still has people who
hold grudges or animosity after all
those years maybe dating back

decades and have still not forgiven
Deborah or perhaps the evaluation
is done by faceless, anonymous
persons using some sort of new

fangled algorithm to size up or take
down Deborah. Maybe the message
comes from God, “Deborah, oh, dear
Deborah, you only scored 3.2 out of 5.

The good news is that it isn’t 3.2 out
of 10. You’ve got little time left
(sorry to spill the beans so to speak),
dear, to clean up your act, so without

airing all your dirty linen, I would
just advise that you start treating
your grandchildren better than you
have treated your children and, I

assume that by your age, you have
stopped cheating on your husband,
oh, and about those fraudulent checks…,
Best wishes.” Holy Cow! Everything,

absolutely everything is quantified,
evaluated and scored in a reputation
number more indelible than one’s high
school IQ test score, which you took

on the day following your mother was
hauled off to jail on a manslaughter
charge for doing in your dad. He got
to thinking about what his score might

be and then he heard the ominous,
gravelly, gurgly call from the depths,
“Sorry, Charley.”