Some people say social media is not real, and the type of folks we see living in that world are mutant versions of the actual person.

I disagree.

I think they are the most authentic versions of the person, including a clear glimpse into their souls, assuming they have them.

The ability to hide behind a keyboard, even if you provide your true identity along with a profile photo of you and your cat, makes it that much easier to express an unfiltered view of the world.

I experience that all the time, and had a large helping of nauseating authenticity last week. In fact, it was a double whammy.

First, I posted a photo of myself standing outside of the Moshannon Detention Center, a few miles west of what is ironically called “Happy Valley,” the home of Penn State Main Campus.

That is a private institution that holds hundreds of immigrant detainees waiting to be processed for expedited removal. It’s kind of like an Amazon warehouse where returned and damaged goods are stored until they can be shipped back to the original plant.

I’m not joking. The people who inhabit Moshannon are commodities.

The people who run the place make almost $50,000 a head off of the detainees, so there is of course a profit motive to arrest and detain as many people as possible, even those who have no criminal record, which is most of them, and who have already started the process of legalization.

Before posting that photo, I understood I’d get some blowback from the people who disagree with me on immigration issues, and that was OK.

I’m not one of those who tell ICE to do anatomically impossible things to itself, and I’m also not a fan of the people who sing “we shall overcome” in front of federal offices and blocking the entrances to prove that we don’t have no dang kings.

I prefer to work through the system, including successfully suing the government.

But I wasn’t prepared for the vile and vitriolic comments about “illegals” that started pouring out of people who I didn’t know personally, but who were clearly not bots.

These were people I might meet at church, praying to Our Virgin and holding a beautiful rosary blessed at the Vatican.

These were people who wouldn’t dare say such things to me as they reached out to extend the sign of peace at the end of Mass, but who had no problem whatsoever telling me the poor kid who had TPS and was working to put money aside for college, legally mind you, needed to go back home where he would likely be killed by drug traffickers.

But hey, as the Facebook scholars helpfully explained, due process is only for U.S. citizens. I was so glad they told me, because I trust the anonymous trolls much more than my old professors at Villanova Law.

And then came that vote on Israel. This past week, Democrats voted to essentially leave Israel to fend for itself against Hamas, Hezbollah and all of the other caliphate builders.

I called and left messages with everyone, expressing my disgust. I doubt anyone cares, but like Jack Lemmon in the “Out of Towners,” I was on a mission to take names and make myself known to the Powers That Be.

And then I posted on Facebook the vote taught use there are members of Congress who hate Jews more than they love the U.S. and puts the lie to the statement anti-Zionism is not the same thing as antisemitism. I also wrote Jew haters share a bloodline with the Reich, and their hatred of Israel connects them across political fault lines.

Not conservatives or liberals. Ecumenical bigots.

And boy did those bigots start commenting. It was as if the Third Reich had reconstituted itself on my page, with people defaming Jews, Israel, and commenting on my looks.

These were not all bots. I did more blocking than Chuck Bednarik on his best day at Franklin Field.

But it taught me a lesson that there is a lot of hatred out there, and people are just too timid to express it when they are standing inches away.

However, give them a keyboard, and they will make you ashamed to breathe the same, fetid air that keeps them on the sunny side of hell.

Copyright 2026 Christine Flowers