4/26/2008

AboutFaceBook

I'm about to say something that I'll probably regret, but I'm okay with that. It can just join the host of other regrettable things I've said. They can keep each other company. Maybe if I say enough stupid things, none in particular will stand out from the crowd and I can just get by. Presidents have been elected on less than this. And then re-elected because we didn't want to admit we made such a colossal mistake the first time around.

I Hate FaceBook

I know, it's probably the hippest place to be for people that can't get up the energy to actually go anywhere in the physical world. And posting there is probably the most popular thing to do since picking your nose was invented. But I hate it.

Every time I log on, I look at all the crap on my page about what all these other people are doing and I simply don't care. I don't care where you went to lunch. I don't care that you're flushing the john. And I certainly don't care that the weather is either nice or sucky where you happen to be.

I know it's old-fashioned, but when I want to know what a friend is up to, I'll actually ask them. I'm not saying I'd pick up the phone and call them; that's a bit too 1950's even for me. But I'll sure shoot them an email or an IM. Now maybe someone posting that information on FaceBook makes it less work for me, but that assumes I actually wanted to know what they had to tell me. And that I can wade through the rest of the junk on the page to figure it out.

I feel like the grumpy old man on the court, yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off his lawn.
But dangit, it's my lawn and I don't want your dang graffiti and tomfoolery messin' it up. Now git!

Hmph.
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