The other day, I imagined myself writing in this space to vent about the resumes I have to read at work and advise on what not to do. I didn’t get around to it.

In truth, my resume, job applying advice is very brief — show empathy.

If your prospective employer asks for your name in the subject line of your email, include your goddamn name. When your naming your attached documents, it’s no longer relevant if the names make sense on YOUR computer, they need to make sense on someone else’s. Somewhere in the kit and kaboodle, provide some kind of clue as to why your applying. I ain’t got the time to mine for your gold.

That’s about it. Oh, and save the crazy for after you get the job. Although, folks where I work are kind of digging your advertisement of the goodness of your homemade jam, we may not be laughing with you.

In my personal case, the job has a glamorously worldwide sounding name. It’s not, it’s paperwork locally for the most part. But, good god y’all everyone who has imagined travel or lived abroad thinks that’s enough to establish global bona fides. Do some research about the job, people.

All of the above is preamble to what I want to write about now, social network anger. I got a dose and realized that a whole lot of people are talking but not listening.

Admittedly, in a less than charitable mood, I Twittered and Facebooked about a job applicant that stated his desire to work among folks of “various socioeconomic backgrounds.” I was amused not just by the thought of someone hoping to rub shoulders in the workplace with the strata of American society, but the fact of the matter that where I work is pretty much no melting pot.

In response, I got an earful from a socially networked “friend,” actual close relative, about his own experience with the paperwork of job applications. Truly, I didn’t get it. It was a conversational hijack with a sweeping generalization that wasn’t matching my own experience or current reality.

It was clearly social networking equaling two simultaneous monologs masquerading as dialog. Somewhere I was told we should agree to disagree, but for that to happen we would have had to have been speaking about the same thing.

Of course, the comedian in me was miffed that my punchline was hijacked by a non sequitur.

I’ve noticed that kind of “conversation” happens a lot online.

M.’s coworker ended up blocking people in her Facebook circle, rather than continue to participate in the non-dialog. In her case, she sometimes throws out affirmations and whatnot from her personal New Age-y perspective. Quite possibly not one’s cup of tea, but harmless enough and her belief system.

She got tired of “friends” criticizing her posts or proselytizing their own beliefs.

I totally can’t relate to her naysayers. In my own feeds, I have plenty of folks who don’t believe what I believe. In particular, thanks to comedy, there’s a good amount of 12 steppers. No way can I imagine shitting on someone else’s call to a higher power.

Pretty much, I keep my snarky counterpoint to those contacts encouraging provocation or political dialog. Otherwise, I guess I live the cliche, if you ain’t go something nice to say, shut the fuck up. (Or the comedic corollary, I at least try for something funny.)

Speaking of comedy, I follow a few Twitter feeds of comedians of various levels of fame or success. Some of them go for one-liners, quick, witty observations and other humorous notes. Others keep it much less purposely funny or a bit more personal.

What amazes me is how repetitive the slamming is. For quite a few of them, it would seem especially the ones who share a bit of the personal, there’s a steady-ish stream of “fans” deciding how unfunny they are.

If you’re fan enough to find some comic and start following what they write, why the insults? I really, really, really don’t understand liking someone enough to seek them out, but being contemptuous enough to shit on them.

Life is short and all that.

It used to be that Internet arguments among Usenet readers with a shared interest in common would devolve into anonymous shouting matches and ad hominem attacks. I think I understand the underlying passion and anonymous safety of a good, old-fashioned flamewar.

I almost understand the trickery and prank sensibility that is trolling.

Angry posting among “friends” is another animal. One I don’t comprehend. In social networking either you know people or feel some kind of connection. How did that devolve into contrarianism?

It’s like all of the shifty dark part of the net is taking over the good junk. Makes me kind of nostalgic for a good Usenet argument and Godwin’s Law.

In the end, I just can’t sustain the anger. Maybe it’s as M. claims, we’re doing alright and life is fine and others can’t see it.

Yesterday was sunshine in Napa with four friends. We tried reserves, and Pinots and cabs. We sampled Francis Ford Coppola’s Rubicon, which at $145 a bottle was damn smooth and tasty. The afternoon was lunch and more wine,

M. and I ended the day by wandering SF at night. Finally, in lieu of dinner we shared a banana split at the chocolatier’s that lends it’s name to Ghiardelli Square and headed home.

Maybe he’s onto something with this happiness thing.