Did you know that Facebook tracks the people with whom you correspond most and gives them priority on your news feed? Once I learned this, I started picking and choosing who’s posts I commented on, just to manage who popped up most frequently on my news feed. Everyone has a Facebook friend who’s friend request you accepted out of charity. You didn’t really know them but they are an acquaintance, who seemed nice, you knew they were struggling in the popularity department, so you threw them a bone. Invariably, this act of good-will will burn you. It’s like letting a 90 year old man merge in front of you on the freeway. It’s going to come back to bite. Invariably, these FB friends write the most lame posts in the history of written communication. I can’t tell you how many times i left a comment “Nice” on one of these news feeds and it instantly gave them the encouragement they needed to keep writing their stupid Ralph Waldo Emerson quotes and posting shit from “Leaves of Grass” by Walt Whitman. C’mon, no one’s that deep all the time! For one hundred years they’ll be “liking” everything you write because you made the mistake of giving them that one-time validation. And it doesn’t matter what they write. For this one tiny lapse in judgment, for six months you’ll be discovering how this guy is writing about toilet paper, forwarding pictures of horses running wild and free with inspirational phrases at the bottom, and sending out status reports on their lower intestinal distress. It’s a downward spiral of malaise and aggravation that’ll have you thinking, “Fuck, why did I let him know that anyone was listening by replying “Good one” last September?“ Then, whenever you do make the mistake with one of these replies, you’re bombarded with alerts that their lame friend’s are teaming up in droves to respond. Thank goodness Facebook lets me know that cousin Danny’s buddy from the beer stein club thinks this one-and-only quality post was a “Good one” too.
Some people post the most unbelievably inane stuff on Facebook too. Scintillating commentary like: “So tired. Good night Facebookers.” I mean really, who gives a fuck? The world isn’t reading this, just eleven or twelve, max. Just go to bed already. Or another, “Can’t sleep.” Maybe unplug your laptop for five minutes and give your eyes the tiniest break in the day where they aren’t being bombarded by electrons being emitted from an LED screen of some sort? The pioneers never had any trouble with insomnia. They fucking ate 9 eggs for breakfast every day and plowed a field through stumps and rocks walking behind a damned Clydesdale. No cholesterol problems, obesity, or restlessness back then. And certainly no insomnia.
Another of my favorites posts is the gratuitous picture of the food which they are just about to consume or worse, are in the middle of consuming. I don’t know how to break this to you but your iPhone doesn’t photograph food like you think it does. On your iPhone that delicious green mole chicken and cheese enchilada looks more like something the cat left for you on the front step. Lighting and photographing food takes hours upon tedious hours and years of experience to make it look mouth-wateringly appetizing. Usually, when I see pictures of this sort I don’t think, “Damn, that looks good!” I think, “Damn, it looks like Jim is off his diet again. Portion control, Jim! Portion control!” Anyone who’s gone to Taco Bell knows this to be a fact – that big beef burrito supreme seldom bears any resemblance whatsoever to the 30×42 poster on the wall. If your food is that fantastic, eat it quick while it’s still hot before you can tell what’s really in it.
