Phrembah (a potato-like mystery) (phrembah) wrote,
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
phrembah

Visit me on Facebook. See if I care.

Some damn fool asked . . .

What does it mean if a person doesn't want to be on a site like Facebook?

For years I kept my cell phone in a tool box on my truck because that’s what it was: a tool for fixing my truck. If I couldn’t fix it myself, I called AAA on the cell phone. Lately I gave up my land line because I couldn’t afford it anymore and started using the cell phone exclusively.

I decided to try and see what twitter was all about since, as mortal human beings, that seems to be our most direct connection to the Word of The Donald. So I signed up. The very first tweet I got was from some guy who collects pictures of women’s butt cracks. Not porno, per se, just photos where a girl’s shorts, jeans, swimsuit or whatever was slipping or maybe not big enough to begin with and bit of that that proverbial “plumber’s crack” was beginning to show. While I have nothing against women or their butt cracks, this is not the kind of information I wanted to be getting daily on my phone from a stranger about strangers. That voyeuristic fetish-driven lifestyle is somebody else’s idea of a good time. I blocked that guy, but found that there were dozens, if not hundreds of other feeds that ranged from banal to disgusting that I didn’t want to see or have seen on my phone. I uninstalled twitter.

For years I had had a Facebook account so that when some advertiser said, “Like us on Facebook for a chance to win a genuine ‘Viva Il Duce’ bumper sticker,” I could do so. I never looked at my page and I had one friend: a lady my mom knows in Florida. I would get friend requests now and then and I ignored them. Recently I started accepting friend requests just for shits and giggles and found that it started an avalanche. Within four days I was getting four friend requests every time I opened my email—-all from people I did not know from Adam or Eve. I kept “friending” these people just to see what would happen. Well, before long, the same thing that happened on twitter happened on Facebook: I was getting posts and notifications constantly from dingbats whose avatar was a picture of Emperor Donald (even though they weren’t actually Il Duce himself or formally connected thereto). I have enough scary pictures of Emperor Donald in my head already; thank you very much. So, I closed my Facebook account and burned the temporary email address I had created just for such an event.

So to answer your question, what it probably means if a person doesn't want to be on a site like Facebook is that they have been banally brutalized with dreck and detritus from the far left end of the bell curve and can’t take any more of it.

I realize you can do a better job of filtering out the assholes, idiots and perverts, and I will make a new no- friends-allowed Facebook account just so that I can say,“ . . . and visit me on Facebook!” Go ahead, visit me. I don’t visit me and I might not see that you visited me till after Thanksgiving, but go ahead, visit me, see if I care.

Wow, is that long, or what? The Uber-Anal Quora Deities will be so proud of me!

Tags: brain fart, compelling chronicle, profundity extraordinaire
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