Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Day 94 -Nothing Says I love You Like Declaring it on Facebook

November 10th, 2009

It’s always so nice to spend time with you on Facebook. Let's face it, this is where stars are born and legends are made. I wish Jesus had a Facebook page so(on Christmas) he could write the obligatory status update thanking everyone for the birthday wishes.

I debated even tapping into the Facebook universe for a blog topic as it is no secret that it will undoubtedly be overtaken by another self promoting ,voyeuristic and more desirable online networking community. I already fear that there will be a rumble between Facebook and Twitter. It would go down very similarly to the “Beat It” video choreography. Twitter’s most powerful weapon of all: simplicity. While Facebook ultimately wins with the help of the Fans of Bea Arthur.

I want Facebook to change their look again. I enjoyed the violent backlashes and mini revolutions when they dared to alter the familiar layout. I’d like to lead a revolt with the intention of reclaiming Newer Facebook back..that’s right...the one from the future. After winning that battle, I will time travel back in time to early 1900’s Tsarist Russia Facebook and join groups called “I Love my Babushka” and “Fan of Arranged Marriages”.

Let’s talk about this poking thing. It screams, “I am too lazy to see you in person, call you, write you a hand written letter, send you an email, text you or post a ‘I’m thinking of you but would prefer to put little to no effort into it’ post on your Facebook wall." Not only does it sound worthy of a sexual harassment lawsuit, poking is as pointless as searching for a job in this economy, a soundtrack for a silent film and Stedman.

Although I seem cynical about our favorite virtual addictive time waster, I guarantee that I will continue to Facebook the hell out of you. Truth be told, I’ve never felt this way about an online community before. Yes, I am a sensitive soul and you must know that I do feel bad about blowing off other online communities. Do Myspace and Friendster ever ask about me? Friendster is a mean drunk.. I learned that the hard way.

No comments:

Post a Comment