If you think this column is a joke, then follow this link to the Washington Post.

They never make stuff up, well, except that Pulitzer they had to give back because the story was made up.

They wrote an article about Text Neck, a physical ailment that comes from bending your, on average 10-pound, head down to read a text message

I always suspected text messages were bad. I should know. I keep getting these text messages with Asian characters inviting me to click a link. I refuse to click the link, however, because, despite these sophomoric columns I sometimes write, my 10-pound head is fairly sharp and I don't want the North Koreans to aim a nuke at me.

My weird text messages, presumably from North Korea.

The Post article says constantly bending your head down to read a text puts more weight on the cervical spine, that pressure growing to 60 pounds at a 60 percent tilt.

I've witnessed this tilt, even from older married couples sitting together at restaurants staring longingly into their phones because the magic of conversation has long been lost.

But I'm writing this for the young'uns out there.

They are our future and one of them will be president one day but we need an upright president, one who's not slouched from reading text messages on which parking lot they're going to meet up to form a caravan to go to a party where wholesome fruit punch is served.

Evidence of a devolving process?

We don't need a president who looks like the first few people in the evolution of man drawing. Not surprisingly, the graphic the Post uses looks like that drawing and could suggest the onset of a devolving process.

That's a shame. We had a great run at walking upright, proud in our discovery of fire, the wheel and oven mitts, not to mention beer koozies and Snuggies.

Then someone, who didn't think about the impending malady of Text Neck, had the great idea of a personal phone that you could carry that would give you freedom to talk in your car while dodging traffic and talking loudly in public places while the rest of us were enjoying the art of conversation.

The first cell phones were big, like those old military walkie-talkies. Then somebody had the brilliant idea of putting them in a bag that you could even use like a fanny pack.

Then someone had the idea of making them smaller, faster, stronger and smarter so that we would one day take that evolutionary backflip to the days when early man was contemplating ways to make himself faster, stronger and smarter to avoid being eaten by a dinosaur.

I don't think those who thought it a good idea to put phones in bags thought it would cause Text Neck. They just figured it would be a good way to check social media to see who was a lowdown, dirty cheatin' so and so, see who was forcing their religious and political beliefs down your throat or to see that scrumptious slab of meat that would eventually become this evening's supper.

They didn't think about Text Neck, slumping your 10-pound head down to read a message from your boo that she was just using you to get to her new boo, who happened to be your best bro, although not any more because your former boo ain't your boo no more and is now the boo of your former bro.

They didn't think of the sheer audacity, not to mention Text Neck, that would come from a simple alert saying there would be school the day after an ice storm that didn't leave any ice on the roads.

They didn't realize the outcry Text Neck-causing alerts would generate when announcing there would be school on the coldest day of the year because a young'un would have to spend a horrifying five minutes waiting for the bus in an arctic chill or in the warmth of their mother's car.

That five minutes could have been devoted to staying at home listening to depressing music and texting your former boo her new boo, your former bro, is cheating on her with a new boo and you and your former bro are now bros again.

It's really sad isn't it? Not the whole boo, bro, former boo, former bro thing, but the part we once walked upright — Lance Martin