Like Me on Facebook

My breakfast this morning included two "all-natural, country style" chicken sausage links, with "a hint of sage and thyme" according to the package. The brand is Al Fresco, which they print as al fresco, all lower case. They are yummy and have only 50 calories each, which is a lot of bang for the buck if you ask me. They come fully cooked so all I do is pan-fry to heat them. Besides great taste, they get bigger the longer you cook them which is sort of fun to watch, especially when my husband is out of town.

Penis jokes aside, I like them--I really, really like them, and so does Mitch, and so we buy them often. Today, while they were heating up, I noticed something new on the package: Right next to the Gluten Free and the Pork Free symbols were the Facebook logo and the Twitter logo. Huh? What? Buying them and eating them is no longer enough; now I'm supposed to like them on Facebook and "tweet" about them too?

Of course I know the answer is yes; every one of their customers is being directed to go out and advertise for them. This blog, if it had as many readers as it got when I wrote that I wished Keith Olbermann were dead--which I still do by the way but I'm happy enough his show is off the air and he's a big, fat has-been--would be a huge advertisement. As it is, maybe one or two of you might even try the stuff after reading about it here.

In the year 2012, advertising is king. It's even going to elect our next president. Everyone is always being asked to like something on Facebook. The local spay and neuter clinic here in Freeport, Maine wants their customers to like them on Facebook. The gas station at the corner wants me to like them on Facebook, although how that would fill up my tank is beyond me, and I already like them enough out there on the corner of Route 1 and Pine. Every diner, shoe store, flower shop and savings bank now wants you to like them on Facebook, and why would you? What do you get out of it, besides an  annoying stream of advertising? And natch, Facebook and Twitter get money out of the whole deal I suppose, something to do with page clicks, and with each one their boy-genius CEOs get richer and richer.

Perhaps I should send the sausage manufacturer a link (ha) to this post and maybe they'll send me a coupon for 10% off my next purchase. As my father would say, it could happen.

Facebook: The Drug

Come on, admit it: You're hooked on Facebook. Who isn't? That Zuckerberg kid didn't get to be a billionaire for nothing.

Look at us! It's pathetic, really. Especially now, with all the annoying and invasive and meaningless changes he's making that we all hate, and aren't afraid to say so on our Facebook pages: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," is quite popular. Also, just a general aura of disgust concerning the new things, which is commonly registered as ARRRRRRRGGGH! right there on your Facebook page, for all to see. The outrage has even caused a few people to sign up for Google Plus, or is it Google +, just to teach those folks at Facebook a lesson. Of course, you have to go to your Facebook page to try and convert everyone to the new playground, or else what are you doing over there? So despite all our grousing and grumbling, which has been so loud it made the TV news, nobody has deactivated his or her account.

Basically, the Zuckster and his minions could do anything short of abducting our children and we'll stick around. Why? Because we're addicted. At least, everyone I see there is. The people you don't see who have accounts--they are not addicted. The ones you see more, they're on the way to complete dependence. But the people you now see regularly--you know who you are--they are addicted. (I won't name names, but everyone else can see them too, so it's pretty much a known fact.)

It's the expectation-- or is it a desperate hope-- that something said or discussed or shown will make your day better, or else why go? It is volunatary, after all. Then there are the other people who "use it as free advertising for their business or art or craft or personal blog," like, hey, this one you are reading right now, but really they may not want to admit it but they are also hooked, they're just writing it off their taxes at the same time.

I wonder what we'll do when they start charging us.

The Two Faces of Facebook

I love Facebook because it lets me see what my son, who lives in another city, is up to. Sometimes there is a new photo of him happy and smiling, apparently enjoying himself, and this makes my day. And he has so many friends, which also makes my day, even though I know that among the 713 of them you could count the ones who really matter on one hand-- and you wouldn't need to use the thumb or the ring finger or the pinky.

I hate Facebook because it sows untruth. If you know people in the real world and you know what is really going on in their sordid, seedy, depressing and duplicitous lives, then when you read their perky posts with all the smiley faces and the multiple exclamation points it can actually make you sick.  Facebook World is a happy place where people post great photos of interesting places: Everyone has just had a fabulous time somewhere! They are all living interesting lives!! They love their friends who are the best, and they post positive slogans and uplifting aphorisms and proverbs and quotes from the Dalai Lama to help you get through your day!!!! Their kids are all brilliant and beautiful!!!!!! You never hear about their teenagers smoking pot or getting drunk or failing in school!!!!!!!

I love Facebook because it helps forge new friendships with complete strangers, like former high school classmates who you never spoke one word to back then but who enhance the quality of your life today, or your husband's nephews who are mean Scrabble players and also enlighten you politically. 

I hate Facebook because it lets people pretend they are smarter or funnier or nicer or more athletic than they really are. For example, that bit about the ring finger in my opening paragraph: I did not make that up, I read it somewhere and thought it was clever.

I have tried to quit Facebook but then I feel left out, even though I know that it's mostly a crock, for show, and all about appearances. Another thing I do on Facebook is post my blog, which you are reading right now and found on Facebook so I know it works, helping me feel like I am a part of society even though I am mostly reclusive inside my beautiful house in Maine!! I love it here!!!! I walk to the water every day and there are trees and birds and flowers everywhere!!!!!

Stop Children, What's That Sound

"Paranoia runs deep. Into your heart it may creep. It starts when you're always afraid.... "

Suddenly hordes of people are becoming upset over the latest technological advancement, soon to be implemented by Facebook, that will allow for facial recognition of its members. They worry that this is the beginning of something bad, something invasive, something Big Brother-ish, although I can't for the life of me figure out why. To avoid having yourself spied upon, known about, traced, tracked, hunted down and robo-called, take two simple steps: First, stay off of Facebook. Second, leave the planet.

At birth, you are fingerprinted and foot-printed and issued a certificate--I know, not Obama, but everyone else--and you damn well better know where it is at all times. You are inoculated and vaccinated and weighed and measured and enrolled in preschool and nursery school and elementary school and high school and college and the Army or the Air Force or the Navy or get a job with the government or in private industry. You buy health insurance and house insurance and flood insurance and life insurance and you travel on trains, planes and automobiles, passport in hand, each and every time giving away your most personal information. Driver's license, social security number. Age, weight, height, blood type, urine specimens, stool samples. Dental x-rays, arrest record, misdemeanors, driving infractions.

We give it all willingly to anyone who asks, whether we're buying beer, renting a car, applying to college or taking out a mortgage. Heck, at the end there's even a death certificate to be filled out: case closed! And now the 20-somethings behind the screen at Facebook will be able to see your picture and know who you are. Big deal. Seems to me we have much bigger fish to fry--and to fear.