The irritable old man is an alter ego who takes the helm once in awhile after I have had a few too many glasses of wine the night before or attended a funeral. His opinions do not necessarily reflect those of my, er, regular ego.
I don’t get Facebook.
Two snot nose Harvard twerps come-up with a “social network” web site, undoubtedly to help them get laid, and now 500 million people are on board.
And they made a movie about these jerks’ lives. They’re twenty three freaking years old. Twenty three years! I’ve spent more time than that on the can and nobody’s making a movie about me.
Kathie suggested I sign up because our children were using Facebook to share pictures. Of course, it would kill them to actually send or email us a picture, so we have to go on an Easter egg hunt to find photos of what’s going on in their lives. And now that they suspect their parents are lurking about, they have stopped posting altogether
In the year or so I have been on, I have accumulated 38 friends, which is 37 more than I have in real life. I have another five hanging in limbo because I know they will annoy me.
One friend request was from a woman whose profile picture was a snap of her vagina. It might not be hers, but I am not going to do the research. I reported her to the twerps who are probably trying to date her as we speak. By the way, I’ve been out of circulation for awhile, but when did women start shaving down there?
Many of my friends are guys who were signed up by their wives and, hence, never go on. From time to time I am asked by the twerps to find friends for these lost souls. I have thought of brightening their lives by suggesting Lady Vagina.
Some other friends really started to annoy me so I blocked them. Send me a hug and you got blocked; ask me to join your Mafia Wars crew, you got blocked; tell me what you had for breakfast, you got blocked. My page was a pretty quiet place. Then they made it harder to block and I still haven’t figured out how to do it. Now my page is like a cocktail party full of people I don’t know all talking at once. And just like a real party, when I finally go to chime in,everyone has moved on. And I can’t even find the damn bar.
In the old pre-blocked blocking days, if I made a pithy, cogent comment it would stay on my page for weeks for me to revisit and enjoy. Now, in a heart beat, it is bundled in blather and shipped off to No-More-Posts-to-Show land.
I guess they made it hard because if everyone blocked everyone else ,no one would be talking to anyone.
And enough with the demographic based ads. I get it, I’m old; but I’m not ready to buy a cemetery plot and my prostate works just fine, thank you very much. And I am not voting for Sara Palin or “liking” Rush Limbaugh, so stop asking. Where on my profile does it say “stupid”?
Still, they say everything is going over to Facebook. For example, supposedly no one emails anymore. Gee, somebody forgot to tell that to all the Nigerians trying to con me out of my money.
Oh, speaking of money, those snot nosed twerps have made a ton of it from this. I have news for them though: if they skateboard on my sidewalk their moola won’t save them from a whup-ass.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment