From the mind of Alexandrea Weis

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Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Facebook: The new cocaine?

I find myself compulsively checking Facebook several times throughout the day. Well, that isn’t right, maybe several dozen times throughout the day. But the one question I have is why? Why do those of use who continually send friend request and check the “likes” and “comments” on our pages feel compelled to do so. And please explain to me the reason why we have to share the intimacies of our lunches, bowel movements, pets, private parts, children’s homework, or crazy Aunt Nora’s hip replacement with complete strangers. Has Facebook become the replacement for that popular social drug of the eighties, cocaine? Are we getting high on “liking” pages that we never plan to visit again, or wishing people we don’t know happy birthday because we want to make sure they will reciprocate when our special day rolls around. What about the medical implications of Facebook? Are we developing some latent form of ADD by watching what rolls on that infernal ticker at the right hand side of the page. Are we becoming a society of self-imposed, solitary, cyber space sycophants by begging total strangers to be our friends? And how man friends does one need on Facebook anyway? Even Facebook cuts you off at five thousand. But what in the hell are you going to do with five thousand friends? Invade Rhode Island? And why would you want to be friends with that weird guy who is always posting naked pictures of himself with his cats? Don’t we have enough to do with emails, Tweeting, Googling, Skyping, texting, surfing the web, checking apps on our smart phones, and in general sparing ourselves the agony of having a face-to-face conversation with another human being, without adding the addictive nature of Facebook to the mix. And what raving idiot decided to add games to this technological revolution. What possible satisfaction can come from waiting for your dinners to cook in CafĂ© World, while you off a rival in Mafia Wars, and then have to check your crops in FarmVille? How many people on Facebook have even seen a barn, let alone know how to build one, and why are you continually asking me to send you equipment I don’t have. Facebook has for many people replaced the necessity of having relationships. If your computer had an orifice, trust me, some moron would figure out how to take cyber satisfaction to a whole new level. And Facebook would probably want you to join a safe sex group page to make sure you don’t spread any viruses. Where will this all end, and how much further can Facebook intrude into our lives? So go ahead and ponder the possibilities and fear for our future sanity. In the meantime, I’m going to check on my cupcakes in Baking World. I’ve got to get them out of the oven before they burn.  

3 comments:

Kevin Lynn Helmick said...

That was good,and I was thinking about this the other day in future tense. People working, cohabitating, even getting married to people they never acually met, and sharing their virtual, children, and cupcakes I guess. But facebook armies segregated by boundies yet determined and invadeing one another, Rhode Island, thats... so weird, and maybe expanded on, a good premis for a book or story. So today, facebook has inspired this writer. Not that I'll probably write that, cyberfi is not my thing. I know I'm on it too often when I'm at home, short on work. And at some point, I walk away for days at a time.
I don't do any of the games or apps, because brousing, posting, and chatting is enough of a waste of time. But I did like the invading Rhode Island thing,that made me laugh,and I wouldn't a caught it if not for Fakebook.
Thanks, I'm gonna do some laundry, woohoo.

cathbore said...

Great post! And so so true. Facebook can be the procrastinator's friend - and so the writer's enemy, in a way...

Cordelia Dinsmore said...

Thanks for the smiles. Unfortunately, so many of us can identify with your lament because we are in the same virtual boat - Oh, wait, do they have an app or game for that? Virtual sailing, or sink the Titanic.