I have, over the past year, learned to hate Facebook. Props to Zuckerburg and his now billionaire minions who made it all possible, but there is a degree of bullying that goes on there. Perhaps by opining so unflinchingly, I too have contributed to it.
But we’re not talking about me here.
There is a phenomenon that behaviorists and sociologists are marveling over. It’s called Facebook Narcissism and it’s two-pronged: based on the number of people (friends) you collect. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know these people–the magic is in the cumulative number and to keep the FB narcissist happy, it must continue to grow exponentially.
Ego assuaging, I would imagine.
The second part of FB narcissism is the number of photos one has--of oneself. More than 12-hundred photos and only two of them don’t include your image. And if that’s not bad enough, this particular brand of narcissism makes you develop Facebook arm. In your attempt to snap your own image on your own camera phone, you automatically stretch your arm out. But in the photographic wake that is the framing, lies that shoulder hump-you capture only a portion of the shoulder and yes, it’s hump like. THINK: Quasimodo or Richard The Third with a mobile kyphoscoliosis that prefers the shoulder belonging to the dominate hand.
Then comes the pose at an angle you think is cute and/or sexy. Out comes the sunken in cheeks and pouty duck lips and in an attempt to look coy and mysterious, snap the pic and keep taking pics until that wrinkle or chin fat looks sufficiently minimized. Then when you choose the most flattering pic; the pic you want the world of FB to see, you add it to the 1,568 photos of yourself…then have the temerity to complain you’re being stalked or receiving unwelcome comments by strangers.
FB has shrunk the world. We are inner connected in ways that even Ma Bell couldn’t conceive. As a result, Facebook has been a catalyst to many joyful reunions, brand new hook-ups and more than a few divorces. Love and lust connections are made all the time. Now, in all fairness, I can’t say that Facebook causes divorces–FB disintegrated marriages have been in peril long before the culprit played by “Social Media” ever entered the scene.
But it sure as hell didn’t help.
It allowed me to reconnect briefly with a former love a year ago. Facebook lead the way. We spoke by phone for the first time in 31 years. We exchanged apologies for sins committed against each other in late 1979 and then promptly shut, then permanently sealed that door. Closure is a gift.
Even so, I’m becoming increasingly annoyed by Facebook and all the photos and absurd comments and status updates. In my opinion, it has become as irrelevant and bothersome as family holiday newsletters.
“…Little Freddie’s circumcision is healing nicely. His doctor was incredibly gifted considering our son’s 40 degree penile torque….”
I spent the evening culling my FB herd. Omitting (unfriending) people who have become vexations of my spirit and to be completely honest, I loved that control; that power. “I” control who’s in “MY” world…and who isn’t.
Click….she’s gone. Click…his nebulousness now melds with the ether. Click…that person erased. Click…she’s completely 86’d from my social media existence. Easy. Efficiently. Dirty. Why shouldn’t we edit? Why don’t we do more of it? I think I will. I no longer have time to deal with that which will only be detrimental for me to give any real credence or relevance. Selfish? Probably. Necessary? Completely.
This was my version of natural selection and it felt good. Besides, I don’t know these people anyway–nor they me. My days of validation and popularity contests are over. I fully intend to break the FB stranglehold in a matter of days. I’m looking forward to bidding it adieu.
I only wish life came with a delete button.
Zuckerberg? Gates?? Disney??? Industrial Light and Sound?????? THIS is a direct challenge.