Mark Zuckerberg dangled more than he bedazzled, with his posterior atop a seat cushion while his ass was not on the line; while he traded his hoodie for a suit and tie, as if it were class picture day at a pop-up version of Sears on Capitol Hill; while he neither blinked nor belied his reputation as the most advanced humanoid of the last 100 years, a title previously held by an 8-foot-tall Creature with yellow eyes and translucent skin, whose maker chased him from the Alps to the Arctic; while he said many things, but never solemnly swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God.
Who needs God’s help, when the United States Senate treats a citizen of childish stature like a man of colossal significance?
There he sat and spoke—at the same time—a marvel of artificial intelligence and zero wisdom. He created Facebook, he said, which would have been possibly perjurious testimony had he placed his hand on a Bible and put himself before the full force of the law.
Instead, he said he was sorry.
It was a tearless apology from a rust-free tin man.