[Preface: I am glad to have reconnected with some people on Facebook. If you’re one of my Facebook friends, keep that in mind as you read this rant.]
I figured, everybody older than seven and younger than 90 is doing it, so there must be something to it, right? I mean, something this popular has to be either really fun, really forbidden, or it helps people make money. So I signed up and started gathering “friends” like flies.
People I haven’t talked to since elementary school were inviting me to be their friends. At least one person who I was more than happy to have lost contact with found me on Facebook and invited me to be her friend.
I ignored her invitation. Twice. Yeah, I’m kind of a jerk like that.
So now I get inane little updates from people I haven’t heard from for decades. Rebecca is going to do laundry now. (“Ahhh,” I think. “Rebecca is going to do laundry now.”) Kara is really tired and is going to bed. Pierre still has openings for his course. Don’t you want to sign up? Want to buy Lauren’s natural miracle soap?
I mean, as if the Internets weren’t already vapid enough, I now get “cute” little Facebook pokes and gifts and, oh! what’s this!? I’ve been kidnapped and am being held for ransom! Or I’m the lettuce in Hannah’s BLT. Its text messaging writ large with graphics and color—a world that is hostile to any exchange more significant than liking something up or down and posting your latest golf score. The only thing missing from this surreal stew of insipidity is the Hello Kitty background, and that’s probably coming. If the medium is the message, then we are well and truly screwed.
You exaggerate, you will say. You need better friends, you will say. True, true. But what if all the time spent on Facebook were instead invested in building your Niche Blitzkrieg sites or generating income by filling business needs in your area? That’s a lot of wasted productivity, if you ask me.
Yes, I’m the old guy in your neighborhood who is always yelling at the kids, “Get off my lawn!” Any other questions?