The trouble with Facebook is you Pt 2

This post is a continuation of The trouble with Facebook Pt 1

There’s nothing wrong with Facebook, I’ve got nothing against FB or Mark Zuckerberg personally or anything, I don’t even know the bloke. But I do have something against the 500,000,000 or so users of FB (or a good proportion of them).

These are my issues –

WHO STARTED THE “WTF STATUS UPDATE”?

There is a peculiar trend doing the rounds – the status update which is basically a teaser. It is a statement or question designed to initiate further questioning or garner attention.

Instead of informing the reader, the WTF Status Update typically evokes reactions such as, “Who the hell are you talking about?” and “What does it mean?”

There are a few basic kinds of The WTF Status Update, they are –

“The Who Am I?”

“The Wha’happen?” AKA â€œThe Missing Subject”

Usually a short one-liner

“The Double Whammy” – “The Who am I?” combined with “The Wha’happen?”

From the succinct –

To the complex –

“The poorly disguised unfriend threat”

“The Call for Help” or â€œCrying Wolf”

… and finally

“The Mother Lode”

The problem – these aren’t updates they are personal emails. If I want to exercise my brain I’ll buy a copy of The Times and have a go at the cryptic crossword. If you have something to announce, tell me in plain English.

You’re not being clever, you’re being bloody annoying.

The solution for those of us plagued with friends who exhibit this behaviour is easy: ignore them. Nothing says ‘stop being so damn pathetic and quit writing these indulgent status updates’ more than one that hasn’t elicited a response. Nothing looks lonelier on the page, more pathetic or more downright embarrassing than a WTF Status Update drowning in a sea of white space.

You’ll find in no time they will revert to giving nice straightforward uncompicated updates. Either that or they’re a sociopathic menace, in which case; you continue to ignore them. This may have the effect of pushing them over the edge, but you can always say you did nothing to exacerbate their unstable state, or you can deny seeing their updates at all. Besides, you’ll be doing them a favor, they need to be medicated enough to not need that much attention. Nobody needs that much attention.

Better a zombie friend than a needy, mentally unstable attention whore I always say.

GAME PLAYERS EG FARMVILLE, CITYVILLE ETC…

If you must play a Game that actually has no incentives, no rewards, and no conclusion (how is that for a depressing commentary about today?) Please respect the rest of us. We don’t care about it at all. This has been said so many times, in so many ways, by so many people that it doesn’t bear further elaboration.

Oh maybe one more time. DON’T TELL US ABOUT IT DON’T REMIND US ABOUT IT… WE FUCKING HATE IT

LIKERS OF PAGES THAT FEATURE ONE SENTENCE OF ONE OF THE FOLLOWING : THE BLEEDING OBVIOUS, THE SOPHOMORICALLY VAGUELY HUMOROUS STATEMENT, DIME STORE PHILOSOPHY

If you are under sixteen years of age:

1)     You shouldn’t be reading this in the first place it contains naughty words.

2)    This doesn’t apply to you, you are allowed to “like” things that more mature people (should) find asinine.

For those of you over the age of sixteen:

Stop “liking” this crud, it makes me question my own intellectual prowess that I could have you as a friend. If I see you “liking” pages entitled “Remembering embarrassing moments in the past and still feeling embarrassed” or ” Never underestimate a girl’s ability to find things out” or “I love it when I’m cutting wrapping paper and the scissors start to glide” or “You blocked me? Am I supposed to care?” or “No man is an island, but some of us are pretty good peninsulas”, I will be forced to attempt to have you committed. You are unwell. You need to be removed from the relative safety of civilized society and placed in the care of professionals who are trained to deal with people of your kind. You might even be placed in a confined space with others of unsound mind, who may cause you bodily harm.

Ahhhh thats better, with that thought, I’ve cheered myself up no end.

SIMONS EASTER EGG