Nonvirtual friends are No. 1! Click 'like'

It's been a week since we last checked out where the Twin Cities stood on some important list of important things that make us the Bestest Place Ever. Rather than tell you what the list is about, let's make a game of it. Build some suspense.

Are we:

A) 51st on a list of America's Cities Most Likely to Just Order a Medium Coffee instead of that "Venti" or "Grand-ay" Nonsense, I Mean, what is this, Italy? I don't think so.

B) Second on a list of towns most likely to come in first in a magazine survey.

C) Named 13th in a survey of "America's Best Places to find a glossy local monthly magazine whose front cover seems to have 'Where to find the Best Burger' six issues a year, if it's not about Best Doctors."

D) 397th on a list of cities currently on fire.

E) Fourth most "socially networked" city, whatever that means.

It's E, of course. Minneapolis ranks A-plus. (St. Paul gets a B-minus, which puts it at No. 29.) The survey was conducted by Men's Health magazine, which apparently has run out of things related to men and health, and was based on the number of people whose heads are bent over electronic devices, engaged in an electronic cocoon, oblivious to their surroundings, communicating with other disembodied electronic identities. "Social networking," in other words.

Specifics? They counted the number of people on Facebook, and if you define "clicking the LIKE button for a video about a baby laughing when he rips paper" as social interaction, we're up there. Likewise the number of people who belong to Linked In, which is a site where people build professional relationships to be ignored until you're fired, and then they're your best friends. Chat-room usage is included, but again, I'm not sure how social that is. Ours might look like this:

(Ole has entered the room)

(Lena has entered the room)

Ole: sup whos here

Lena: oh hi dere, how ya doin

Ole : a/s/l

Lena: what

Ole: age / sex / location

Lena: none of your beeswax / Mom / never you mind there mister

"Checking out blogs" is also listed as a means of social networking. Uh-huh. This is like saying that "reading the letters to the editors column in the bathroom with the door shut" is the equivalent of joining a bowling league. Look, I'm a fan of social media. Without the manufactured illusion of community and connectivity it provides, I don't know who I'd turn to, aside from family and friends. It's a constant source of news and entertainment, a marvel of our times. But let us not pretend it doesn't have limits. This week's most recent issue of Modern Healthcare, for example -- my wife brought it home from work -- has a cover story called "The Social Hospital," with all the logos of the popular social network services of the moment. It discusses how hospitals are discovering the "potential of social media tools." Wonderful. You're on the gurney, trying to pass a kidney stone the size of doorknob, and the nurse won't answer your friend request, so you have to play Farmville on Facebook and grow some opium? No. My idea of a social hospital is one where I yell and they come running.

True social networks are something else -- the people on your block who'll shovel your walk when you're out of town or move your garbage can to the curb when it looks like you forgot. The hardware store clerk who knows your name and remembers that you came in for spackle last time, the guy in the parking ramp booth who's there every day at quitting time, the waitress at Grumpy's who's never seen you before but treats you like you're there every day. Simple basic human friendliness. The idea that we're socially networked if the churches close and the Rotary clubs dry up, but we're all leaving comments on YouTube sites (LMAO that cat is fail) sounds a bit misguided.

I have more to say on this nonsense, but I'm out of room. Please check out my blog and follow me on Twitter! Let's be No. 3 next year.

jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 More daily at www.startribune.com/popcrush.