Archives for March 2018

You’re Not Going Anywhere

This past week, #DeleteFacebook was trending. That’s because we found out that Facebook was allowing a group called Cambridge Analytica to harvest our information to use against us. We’re used to having our information hacked or stolen but harvesting for some reason seems much worse.

Maybe we don’t want our information handled like wheat. Or worse yet, human organs for sale on the black market. We’ve all heard the stories. So now you’re picturing yourself waking up in a bathtub filled with ice and a hole in your phone where your Facebook app used to be.

We’re constantly being monitored and giving away personal information. Every time you scan your supermarket card to save ten cents on a bag of chips, they’re studying your shopping habits. They know who the people are that buy four dozen rolls of toilet paper every time it’s supposed to snow more than an inch.

They’re saying Cambridge Analytica used the information they obtained to influence the last election. You’re mad at Facebook because you listened to the funny cat photo that told you who to vote for? They knew how to work you.

That time you liked the chicken salad your friend was having for lunch. The one, that for some reason they had to take a picture of and post it instead of just eating the damn thing. Seriously, all of the crap that you have to wade through on Facebook never made you think of leaving, but now that you’ve been harvested it’s enough.

How do you think Facebook knows when and how you’re going to die? Or, what percent asshole you are? None of those things ever made you wonder? It took Cambridge Analytica to finally push you over the edge. Analytica isn’t even a real word. Of course neither was Facebook and it won’t be anymore. Not when we’re done with them.

I’m going to start Faceless book. You won’t know who anybody is. There won’t be any more likes. Instead you can only choose dis-like or don’t-care. You won’t know whose feelings you hurt because you won’t know who they are.

Let me warn you, Facebook doesn’t make it easy to leave. First of all, you have to find the deactivation page in your account settings. Then you have to reenter your password…I think I now have 700 passwords and I can’t remember any of them. How can anybody steal something that I don’t even know?

Then Facebook asks you,

“Are you sure you want to deactivate your account?”

That’s how it starts. Then, photos of all your friends pop up, telling you how much they’re going to miss you. Then Facebook starts crying and says,

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me. Wasn’t it just last week I let you see what you would look like if you were a leprechaun?”

It’s all a big guilt trip. But, that doesn’t faze me. I have an Italian Catholic mother. She never asked me to do anything in my life. She just guilt’s me into doing it.

“I don’t know how my grass is going to get mowed. Maybe I’ll see a stranger walking down the street and ask them.”

And Facebook thinks they can make that crap work on me? C’mon, I’m 80 percent asshole after all.