If I had to pinpoint the single greatest cause of wasted time and potential, and quite possibly the downfall of humanity and the eventual facilitator of the Apocalypse, it would be Facebook. I hate Facebook. I also love Facebook. It's like the Ring of Power, and I am Gollum. I don't want to need it, but I do, just like air and beer. Would I be a stronger, more awesome person if I did not need it? Undoubtedly. But I do. I have actually caught myself checking my homepage less than five minutes after I browsed away from it, as if I am so popular and my life is so rife with moment-to-moment intrigues and social upheavals that something significant and urgent might have occurred in the lapse. In point of fact, Facebook panders to the complete opposite: it fosters the illusion of a thriving social life for those who have none. If we were really as busy and socially-committed as our FB profiles suggest, we would not have time for "Facebooking" (the mere fact that this is a semi-legitimate verb, or at least an acceptable meme, is a testament to just how insidious the phenomenon is). We even invented the term "social networking" to justify aimlessly clicking our way around terabytes of information we mostly already know for hours at a time. Why do we do this? I don't know, but I am as guilty as any of doing it.
For a while, it was a novelty. Years ago, I recall actually learning things about people on Facebook. "Gee, I never knew Terrence, that kid I once made eye-contact with in third grade, was a platypus enthusiast." There was even a feature, which I am not sure still exists and am too lazy to investigate, that generated random quizzes on your friends. Basically, it was an unending stream of questions about your contacts gleaned from their profiles. "Which one of your friends enjoys Blacking out on Arrow peppermint schnapps?" (A trick question in my case, as most of my friends liked doing that, but a good illustrative example nonetheless). This had the added benefit of boosting your self-esteem, because it proved how smart you were and what a good friend you were. One of my friends was also fond of randomly inviting hot girls to our parties back in Facebook's early days, thus inaugurating the era of "Facestalking." He is, of course, too humble to claim that invention, so I will refrain from naming him here.
I am, however, pleased to say that I have not fallen into the abysmal chasm of digital inanity that Facebook has become in recent years. I think it first began with 'Gifts' and 'Applications.' I am fairly certain Facebook invented the term 'Application,' meaning 'worthless program of dubious intent,' before Macintosh, Verizon, and every other goddamned company with a single microchip to its name jumped on the bandwagon. Shrewd and cynical observer that I am, I was quick to point out that, hey, this is kind of . . . stupid. I refused all application invitations on principle and urged others to do the same, lest their lives be consumed in vicarious nonsense. Little did I know how blithely the masses would ignore my dire warning. The apps multiplied like rabbits. Then came that six-month period when I had to reject roughly seventeen invitations per day to join Mafia Wars. Farmville was soon to follow. Now, when my sidebar ads are not urging me to nail hot, scantily-clad single Christian mothers, they insist I must join The Best Facebook Game Ever!!!!! At the risk of sounding cliche, isn't that like being the smartest kid with Downs' Syndrome? I seem to be the only human being who realizes that, brace yourselves, none of this is real. It's all fake. And it doesn't even stimulate or numb the senses as a properly violent and flashy video game would. Why bother?
But the latest thing is perhaps the most annoying to me, or is at the very least foremost in my mind. 'Liking.' As with so many mundane and once-acceptable words, the Internet has turned the simple, versatile term into a trademarked pseudo-activity. Apparently, the 'Interests' and 'Activities' portions of my profile are not enough; the world must know everything that I like, and have a separate outlet to broadcast that vital information. I was actually asked to register my opinion on 'The Great Pizza Debate,' which is evidently a fulminating hot-button topic revolving around crust-preference, a bitter discourse rivaling abortion and gun control in the public mind. Or something. Seriously? Then they ask me to 'Like' this. Really? Why isn't there a 'Dislike' option? I would find that infinitely more useful when I am perusing Facebook. Or maybe a 'Loath' button. Better still, a 'Fuck This Shit' button. What sort of digital democracy is this where I am given only one option, to 'Like' or have no vote at all? What is this, the Soviet Union? I suspect Mark Zuckerberg and company are planning to slowly implement a new world order by gradually dulling our minds and perceptions of reality with a miasma of pseudo-information. How long until they install jacks in the backs of our skulls and plug us in? The Social Network be damned. Mark Zuckerberg, consider yourself Unfriended.
Salutations, fellow denizens of the digital domain. You can call me KP, and this is my bar. If you haven't been here before, take a look around. There's really not much to see. That's because this is a blog, not the fucking Smithsonian. You want links? Apps? Games? That goddamned Foursquare QR code? Go back to iMasheep. Better yet, go fuck yourself. You notice I don't have the ubiquitous icons for Facebook and Twitter in my sidebar? There's a reason for that. And, before you say it, I'm aware of the irony of using a blog to rant about the excesses of frivolous technology. I'm just that avant garde. But you'll find more than just tirades about Tweeting here -- in fact, if you scroll down, you'll discover I think a lot of stuff is stupid. Don't agree with me? Think I'm an insensitive, arrogant, out-of-touch prick? You may be right. But I have a blog. And this is my bar.
No comments:
Post a Comment