Originally posted by graphicgr8s Question. Is life so boring you have to know what others are doing? Every second of the day? If I need/want to know what a buddy's up to I'll call him.
A-freaking-men.
The more I hear about Internet 2.0, the more I hope that an asteroid twenty kilometres or greater in diameter will slam into this blue-green rock.
Incidentally, this was on Dr. Phil today.
I realise what Facebook, Twitter, Myspace are allowing my generation (and others) to do - channel the two biggest skills Gen Y has: narcissism and stupidity.
Why the hell do I give a crap what someone ten thousand miles away thinks of me?
Why the hell do people think that other people want to know about you? Is your life really that interesting? Really? Are you nuts?
No one cares. Not really. There are some rather short odds that you're not a unique, individual snowflake and that people really need to know. You're a number. You signed up for that number, but you're not that smart to figure that out. (Specifically, MySpace, Facebook, et al, are trawling your profile for market research - "Hmm, there're a lot of drunk fifteen-year-old girls with Bacardi Breezers in their hands. Bacardi'll pay for that. Bacardi's competitors'll pay for that.")
You can't think you're that unique if there're 150 million other facebook users out there. No one cares. Especially those who run the "social networking" sites.
Do I give a crap about how drunk you got last night? Who you're breaking up with? What type of underwear you're wearing it that shot of you half-naked to get a few more page hits, you freaking attention whore? Do I give a damn about your crappy band and how you're still looking for a drummer who just so happens to own guitar amps as well as a van to fit it all in?
No. Facebook et al, are just sad reminders that I'll have fewer regrets if Kim Jong Il kicks off a nuclear war. I'll be at the Cape Byron lighthouse, waiting for the final sunrise, picking out Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" on a twelve-string acoustic.
Really, does clicking an icon count as friendship these days?
And stupidity: why is it news that people are pissed that, say, a prospective job offer went sour because the employer went to Facebook and saw that photo of you, beer in hand, parking the tiger in a public street? Or listing who you've slept with? And, of course, the hurt individual saying, "But my Facebook page is private and I think it's wrong that they looked up what I do in my spare time."
It's. On. The. Bloody. Internet. What did you expect? "Oh, don't worry. We're not that respectable a company; we like hiring binge drinkers/the promiscuous/people who clearly value socialising more than anything and will most likely organising parties instead of working on company time. In fact, we're looking for someone who'll infect our toilet seats with herpes as they're throwing up their St. Patrick's Day jaunt. We also appreciate people who use internet slang in everyday speech, and steal office resources to print out flyers for their next party."
Really. Don't care. Stop asking me if I've got a Facebook page. And stop looking at me like somehow I've grossly inconvenienced you, like I forgot to put ice in the esky that was holding you kidney transplant, or kicked your dog. You asked. I said I didn't have a Facebook page. Not "Look, I realised she'd lost two litres of blood, but I don't really think it's was worth the phone call to get an ambulance for your mother."
No one is that interesting. All Facebook does is perpetuate the idea that everyone out there is a shallow, vacuous idiot. Wait. Maybe Facebook has a point.