Frackbook
The Social media disease.
I’m a Facebook sleuth. An advocate of all its embryonic intentions but a despiser of its adult form. I trawl the updates with relish — feasting through my iphone which has taken crack-pipe form. Unwitting near-middle-aged perpetrators are bombarded with my shy sewage of judgement and scorn, occasionally I attempt to share my cynicism by leaving a comment; usually in an advisory capacity of course.
I hate that I’m ‘involved’ and, in being so, I am sucked into the habitat of the social media inferno, kicking and thrashing but always drawn to that blue framed lower-case ‘f’.
The glory days are behind us. The amusing pictures have dried up. Instead, there is a deluge of children you couldn’t care about, geo-tags so I can not give a fuck about where you are, food reviews that make me wince, and poolside selfies following a 6 week starvation diet and, most comically, the snap they don’t realise is being snapped but miraculously finds its way onto my news feed. A carcass on the beach at sunset, overlooking some spectacular vista, a mid-conversation/action shot that intentionally captures their best side. These ‘surprise’ portraits definitely aren’t wonderfully off the cuff, no, they are insipid certificates of narcissistic scopophiliacs.
I have trouble remembering the names of all the little scamps in my own family but find myself learning, by facebook osmosis, the names and bewilderingly dull activities of all these irrelevant gremlins who have just started stumbling, saying words, drawing shit pictures, winning egg and spoon races. Fantastic! If it’s your child or relative — great. No one else cares one jot whether little Millie can run 20 metres without shitting herself or whether young Billy can slur his way through a short nursey rhyme without going cross-eyed. First days at school can surely be circulated on private forums. It clogs up my time line and wastes precious time.
Calling all attention seekers. If you’re feeling a lack of interest and concern in your daily routine/habits why not try one of these: “oh my god…”, “I just can’t believe it….” Or “Feeling sad”. No surer way to peak inquiry and sympathy.
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The death of a family member, friend or even some sort of animal is tragic and Facebook can be invaluable in terms of informing interested parties. Unfortunately, this morphs into an ugly crossover and falls into the attention seeking realm. “RIP Dotty — we loved you” and such like is a terrible mutation of the mourning process. It draws focus to the user and not to poor Dotty who, I’m sure will be missed by some relevant folks. Most Facebook friends are completely unaware of Dotty and her precious breath.
Geo-tagging is a poisonous bucket of rocks. It’s perfectly normal for most of us to go on holiday occasionally. It’s not normal for everyone you’ve ever met to get a postcard. You’re here! Then, guess what, you’re there! Wow. A holiday, of course, is one thing. People get excited. They want to rub it in a bit with those of us who work for a living. Sometimes it’s a pleasant touching of base to know where someone has just checked into for their 2 weeks in the sun. It’s placid.
The hardship postings for the sole reason of comment and wagging tongues. The restaurant and bar posts. The event posts. Who cares?
The foodie types who scatter their message across this particular spectrum of social media finally have their platform and receive nothing but praise and ego frottage. The disinterested avoid involvement. The other foodies swell the comments section well into double figures with messages of bloated comradery. They truly deserve each other. Then there are the haters — what do we do? Stand idle and let this farce marinate?
Selfie twats… These are perhaps the worst offenders. Ramblings we can endure by ignoring. Photos can burn into your conscious thought like a cattle brand. They can leave a painful scar. Pictures taken of other people, posted and tagged by the photographer are unavoidable. Oh, this one is flattering — nice. This one’s pretty funny — great. What the fuck?? — mostly brilliant.
The selfie is unforgiveable. It will only ever see the light of day if the offender is completely satisfied with his or her image. This invariably means a plethora of outtakes. Ludicrously self-absorbed.
But the selfie is not the worst. There is the non-selfie-selfie. That image planned and choreographed by the subject, taken by a mysterious other and then posted by the subject him/herself. These images are highly approved by the person in question and then plastered right out there for their 700-odd friends to gawp at. You’re in a bikini and we’re supposed to think you didn’t know the photo was being taken even though it was clearly taken with YOUR phone and orchestrated by YOU. You didn’t get as much inflating praise as you thought you would? No? That’s because you’re a cunt.
This is the car that keeps crashing and everyone loves a good crash. Right?
