Posts Tagged ‘Facebook’

The Lights Are On BUT…

Monday, January 31st, 2011

I’m back after a long hiatus, and it’s that magical time when I wonder why I ever came back. I’m on Facebook, and every time I log in, like clockwork, a list of all friends available for chat appears on the screen. I don’t have a problem with the list, it’s just that some times I have a problem with who is on that list.

Now, before I hear all kinds of crap about why I hate my friends and why don’t I just dump them and/or get the hell off Facebook, let me explain. You know that family member, high-maintenance friend or neighbor you like, but just don’t feel like talking to? Well, they pepper that friends list too. You know, the person knocks on the door, and even though you’ve been in the living room watching television for the past three hours, you quickly hit the mute button, turn off the lights and slide down on the couch so your head isn’t visible. It’s not that you hate that person, you just don’t feel like talking to them at the moment.

Yes, this happens in virtual reality too. You know, I have some people that it’s nice to talk every once in a while, but I don’t care about the intimate details of their personal lives 24/7/365. Some people I have to be in the mood to talk to. Others haven’t talked to me in so long their assumptions about who I am and what my life is about really, really, REALLY don’t apply anymore. Yet, here the person is, talking to me like we’re still in seventh grade and I really give a shit about who they gossip to in study hall about so and so’s boyfriend. There’s really no polite way to say, “You know, I really couldn’t give a shit, and if your life is so damn small you’re still acting like you’re in that small town high school, I feel sorry for you.” Nope. There’s no polite way to handle that.

Then there’s the worst: the chat box equivalent of the drunk dialer. I have a couple of those on my list, and the only interest I have in talking to them is to hear what kind of off the wall, completely unrelated to reality bullshit they have the sudden urge to queef out as though it was deep philosophy. Here’s an example:

“Hey, do you remember when we used to be in that study hall, Jane Doe? Remember? It’s like when there were people smoking outside the school but there were leg warmers there as well.”

Now, if you’re saying, “What the fuck?” Imagine how I feel. I think I mentioned something about not getting my car fixed and this was the response I got. “WTF?” doesn’t even cover my bewilderment. To this day, neither one of us knows what the hell she was talking about.

Nowadays I find myself logged off or invisible more often. It’s the equivalent of turning off the lights and TV and hoping they don’t see me through the window. Strange as this may sound, some days I don’t feel like talking to anyone. Other days I see people I might want to talk with, but I log off anyway because I don’t want to deal with the others. I’m sure I’m that annoying person to others. Thankfully, nobody has brought it up. However, it always hangs there in front of me before I even open a chat window. Am I that idiot nobody feels like talking to? I don’t know, but it always gives me pause for thought.

I’m not a big CaCa fan, but I think this one applies here. Hopefully I’ll stay off chat, get off my ass, stay out of the fucking doctor’s office and get more work done around here. In the mean time, enjoy the gratuitous T&A. I know you do, you know you do and I know that you know. Now, hang up that phone because nobody wants to hear that shit.

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Thank You for Not Giving a Shit

Friday, October 22nd, 2010

I am a consummate social media addict. I have to say that it helps me get through the day to burp out some rude comment on exactly how shitty the day is going. I try to make it brief and occasionally humorous. I’m sure that Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and Bebo have done a fair bit to connect people and even raise consciousness about some important causes. Causes and organizations can have their own sites with their own fan base. People can also write, post and twat about causes near and dear to them. But this makes me wonder. What are people actually trying to accomplish here? Just because somebody posts some bullshit about a cause or idea doesn’t mean they have any real commitment to it. Other posts are just plain patronizing and annoying.

Anybody can post anything as a status. Look, here’s my typical Facebook status:

I am the Queen of Burundi and my father is a small salt cellar.

See? It’s just that easy. It’s not in the least bit believable, but it’s just that easy. I have no commitments to this status and its content whatsoever. So, without further ado, I present to you some of my favorite pseudo-causes floating around Facebook. I’m sure I’ll get more to add to the collection as time wears on.

#1: Get out the flag lapel pin and do your best to look patriotic.

A US military member is somewhere in the world tonight missing their family while you are safe at home. In the minute it takes to read this, military members all over the world are not only saving lives, but sacrificing their own for our freedom. It’s Military Appreciation Week…Repost this if you are or were in the military, love a military member, hold memories of a fallen hero, or appreciate our troops!

Yes, repost this status, as opposed to say…uh…writing your Congressperson or Representative and demanding the return of all U.S. soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan now. Or, if you’re a Rethuglican, actually putting your money where your cake hole is and demanding to have no more unfunded wars that add to the deficit and, most importantly, voting accordingly.

#2: We’re all alone out here…

A true friend doesn’t care when you’re broke, what you weigh, if your house is a mess, about your past, or if your family is filled with crazies…they love you for who you are. A true friend can go long periods of time without speaking to you & never question the friendship. Repost if…you have at least one true friend…

As opposed to calling them and inviting them to lunch, or offering to help them out around the house, offering them a favor or just dropping them a line to say “Hi.” I’m sure they appreciate this idiotic random status.

I am a very sad kitty with no friends.

#3: The only thing being a martyr gets you is dead.

To all the unselfish moms out there who traded eyeliner for dark circles, salon cuts for ponytails, long baths for quick showers, late nights for early mornings, designer bags for diaper bags … and wouldn’t change a thing. Let’s see how many moms repost this. Moms who don’t care…about……..whatever they gave up, but… instead… LOVE what they get in return. Repost this if you’re a mom and LOVE YOUR KIDS.

I guess if you don’t repost that it means that you hate those little bastards. Hey, kids, did you know that I haven’t smiled since the day you were born? Don’t believe me? Look up my Facebook status, you little shits. Now get a job because Momma needs a designer hand bag.

I'll give you one arrow for every time you don't feel appreciated so you can feel like this at home.

#4: ANY cause célèbre or cause du jour:

Autism is a legitimate disorder that affects 1 in 200 children. There is no known cause or cure for autism. Please repost this status if you are affected by or know someone who is affected by autism.

This one applies to ADHD, breast cancer, herpes, vitiligo, hell anything with the possible exception being illiteracy. If you’re illiterate, you’re shit outta luck in the status department.

Just tell me what the damn sign says, will you?

#5: Guilt assuaging via social media

My parents were MEAN to me when I was a kid! They made me do chores, go to church and school. They gave me a curfew, made me get a job and work for the things I wanted. They insisted that I do my best at school and my job and take pride in my work. I grew up with morals, a good work ethic and respect………for the law. I thank my MEAN parents everyday!!! (copy and paste if you agree).

I’m sure you do. I’m sure you got off the phone with your sainted mother just long enough to queef out that status. Hooray for you. Either you’re full of shit, or you’re sucking up for some reason. Somebody get me a bucket, I have to throw up.

You and me both, dog. Now get outta the way, I'm coming through!

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Posted in Musings on Mediocracy | No Comments »

Nothing’s Sacred

Thursday, September 9th, 2010

I’m a total social media addict, and I understand they struggle really, really hard to have standards. The problem is I’m not sure what the hell those standards actually are. Now, this isn’t me pulling something out of my ass, this is Facebook’s own standards as outlined by them:

• No nudity or other sexually explicit content
• No content that contains hate speech or directly attacks an individual or group
• No content that contains self harm or excessive violence
• No content that contains illegal drug use
• Users are supposed to be the minimum age of 13 years. Now, why there’s so much more discernment in a 13 year old as opposed to an 11 year old, they don’t explain.

Hmmm. So, where does that “Pot Island” app come in? I guess since you’re only a grower, and theoretically not a user, pot is okay. I’m on board. Though, truth be told, I’d rather use as well. After all, who else is supposed to quality control the product?

I’m off on a tangent again. I need to get right to the point. I want you to meet my nemesis, and the demon in charge of accusers, liars, interrogators, and interestingly enough, willful ignorance.

Sorry, I couldn’t get his most recent DMV photo or mugshot. I swear those idiots on The Smoking Gun never post anything important.

Astaroth guided the inquisitors, he lives in the hearts of those who think they have the right to judge others and most importantly, he tells us that evidence doesn’t matter. Make a snap judgment based in fear and ignorance; it’s okay as long as you do it with conviction. Notice any sort of trend here among the demons? You’re right! They all have some jacked up looking hound with them and they never wear any clothes. This brings me to a photo recently banned from Facebook.

Okay, I understand, the good folks at Facebook banned it because it displayed the dreaded penis. Yes, I know that we will all die if we see a penis, or possibly faint at the very least. The human race has declined dramatically to a paltry 6 billion people because the penis is soooooooooooooooooooo damn offensive and frightening that nobody can bear the sight of it. That’s not the point. The point is; where are the standards?

You see, this photo protests the Catholic Church’s continued attacks on homosexuals and points out that thousands of lives have been lost over the past few centuries because of attitudes toward homosexuality. (It’s about to happen again, by the way, click here to learn about Uganda’s “Kill the Gays” bill, brought to you courtesy of the hate-mongering American evangelists. Purpose-driven life my aching ass. Is your purpose to get innocent people killed? Good, you just made Jesus happy then.)

Here, let me lighten the mood a minute. Here’s my happy little avatar:

Seriously, I look EXACTLY like this in real life, including the tiara. The only thing missing is a 40.

What standards? They flagged the photo due to nudity. Fair enough, that’s their policy. Of course, they’ll turn right around and gladly allow people to start pages praying for the death of the U.S. president, sites promoting Sharia law (go ahead, honor kill your daughter, that’s what Allah wants), and at least 100 Christian fundamentalist sites that promote their particular brand of venomous hatred for gays, non-believers, the president, any non-white person and contraception/STD prevention. NO, they do not openly and explicitly advertise that. However, if you scroll down to read the posts of the trolls inhabiting these sites, you will see plenty of statements that begin with “I don’t hate gays BUT…,” “I’m not saying that promoting condom use is wrong BUT…” “I’m not racist BUT…”

But nothing, asshole. You’re a homophobic, backward-ass racist who’s promoting the spread of HIV and other STDs. Now, shut the fuck up, because I’ll gladly look at a thousand penises today before I listen to your stupidity, hatred and ignorance. Yes, I’m fully aware that I’m much more stupid than you because I know how to use proper English and grammar, but that’s just a character flaw I’m willing to live with.

Okay, time to ditch the girly-girl, we’re going to war.

Look, if you’re concerned about obscenities, nudity and graphic content because you have kids; that’s one thing. You and I both know that as the parent, it’s your job to turn the fucking computer off or close your kid’s account. Yes, I’m one of those bastards that oversimplifies things by making you take responsibility as the adult in the relationship. It is just that simple. If that content offends you, block that group or individual from your feed. Better yet, do us all a favor and grow up. But do not give me any stupid bullshit about “family values” or “friendly communities” when you will gladly host the groups promoting hate, intolerance and violence, especially when you do it under the guise of religion.

This is your responsibility, not mine, and certainly not a corporation's. Facebook doesn’t have to be an uneven-handed nanny. YOU have to step up and make a decision for yourself.

I hate double standards. If you’re going to ban a group or photo because of a picture of a scary penis, maybe you want to take a look at what’s really offensive here. Oh, wait, I guess if you hate in the name of Jesus, it’s okay after all. The rest of us at least have our intellectual integrity intact. Oh, and if you’re wondering where that photo came from, it’s from the world renown photographer LaChapelle. Click the name if you want your mind blown. Listen to the Old-Tyme Gospel Hour if you still want to be a whiney little four-year-old crybaby. Again, the choice is always yours.

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Posted in The Demon Haunted World | No Comments »

To John and Jane Doe, Wherever I May Find Them…

Monday, August 30th, 2010

County fair from the Ferris wheel.

That is the fair. I know you’re all telling me to get over it by now, but it’s not the fair I want to talk about today. I want to talk about pictures. Look at this picture. Now, I took this picture from a Ferris wheel more than nine feet from the ground. The one thing that disappears first at a distance is people. In the grand scheme of things, people are actually pretty small. But this gets me thinking. How many people are actually in my pictures? I’m serious about this. I would bet there’s up to a 1000 people or more in the pictures I’ve taken over the years, and I don’t know a single one of them. I don’t know their names, I don’t know who they are, and I don’t care about them. The only thing I know is that some asshole always pops up in the background, and really unfortunate cases, the foreground of your pictures right when you take them.

Somebody I know is in this picture. That person remains anonymous. The others remain anonymous because I have no damn clue about who they are.

I wonder how many pictures I wandered into over my lifetime. I wonder how many incidental pictures of me are in other peoples’ photo albums and picture frames. Back in the day, we had to use cameras that had actual film in them. There wasn’t as much squandering of photos in those days. Somebody turning up to ruin the perfect shot was downright painful and expensive. Some little bastard kid picking his nose in the middle of the family photograph was reason to start busting some asses. The pain in the ass in the front row making the weird face ruined it for everyone.

Yep, that’s the kid.

In the days of digital photography we can all be a lot more cavalier about our use of frames. I imagine the background residents have multiplied considerably.

Get out of the fucking shot. All I wanted was a picture of a pink concession stand.

I take pictures of strange things. Digital photography has only inflamed this tendency. As you can see, I post the pictures of weird things on Facebook and this blog. This leads me to another nagging thought. What if, just by mere chance or coincidence, you actually saw yourself in somebody else’s pictures on the Internet? I’m not talking about anything risqué or perverse, just you as your bad self waiting in line at Space Mountain in Disneyland. Wouldn’t that just fuck with your head to log on, look at a total stranger’s pictures, and see yourself standing there in the background? Would you tell the person that you were in the picture? Better yet, would he or she believe you? Would you send them a profile picture just to prove it? It’s a pickle to be sure.

Who are you? If you saw this, would you tell me? I’m not a stalker or anything, I just want to ask you why the fuck you had to wander out into the landscape right when I was taking the fucking picture, you insensitive prick.

Here’s a funny. I typed “jerk in picture” into Google image search. This exact picture turned up.

Who thinks this poor dog is a jerk? Well, at least the dog won’t take offense. I’m sure he can’t type.

Look, I’m not the deepest thinker in the universe, but this subject has crossed my mind when weeding through all the interesting images that cropped up during the fair and my trip back east. I tend to keep to still life and landscapes. It helps me to avoid any unwanted aspiring models and idiots with remarkably bad timing.

This includes you too, lens louse.

Ponder that for a while. I’ll take you out with this klassic from HP. I wonder if all those schmucks in the background are paid extras or if they just happened to be wandering by. Who knows? Either way, as clever as these effects are, I’m sure somebody at some point during the filming of this commercial wondered, “What the hell is that idiot doing in the middle of my shot?!”

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Facebook Fuckery

Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010

Not being burdened by the shackles of employment, I’m finding myself perusing social media. I was never interested in Twitter (sorry, Twitter folks) but I am currently on Facebook. Of course, in last night’s bout of insomnia, I found out that by forgoing Twitter I’m leaving behind a wealth of information. For example, I found out that one of my favorite bands announced its untimely demise via twitter almost a year ago. I did not know this. My philosophy is that if there is something important I need to know, these people owe me the courtesy of calling me at home. Not that I’ve bought any albums recently, because, well they kind of sucked, but if you’re retiring or getting rid of the band, at least give your sister in Oakland a courtesy call.

Learn how to dial. Get an iPhone at the very least. Don’t you people have any money?

They could have at least sent us a message on Facebook. I get all my important information off Facebook, including which one of hundreds of anonymous friends is hungry, tired, sick or having a really nice dinner. These things are important. However did I get through the day without knowing what a total stranger in Australia is eating for lunch?

Mmmmm. Wombat. The other, other, other, OTHER white meat. We’ll actually take it out of there and bread it first.

I have to admit I’m a social media addict. After all, if I didn’t have social media I might have to leave the house and spend money I don’t have on gas. Well, I don’t have to buy gas, but if I don’t, the alternative is worse.

The damn rainy season just will not give up. This is not me. Biking is too much like exercise, and you all know how I feel about that.

Time flies in the vortex of social media. Every one of us has had the experience of trying to sit down for “just a few minutes” and then looking at the clock in panic as we realize that there’s only 3 hours left to get a good night’s sleep. (Or pace restlessly in my case.) Facebook is a valuable tool for keeping in touch with your friends and finding out that they’re secretly fans of Barry Manilow. Trust me; you cannot put a price on good bribe material. Besides, what else would I do all day? Work a crossword?

Social media lets me get in touch with the mystical in me. No, I’m not kidding about this. Look, I carved out a little supernatural niche in the virtual world of agriculture:

I feel all spiritual just looking at it. Maybe I should start drinking early.

This Stonehenge is sooooo damn tiny, not even the dwarfs could stomp on it.

We all need a little bit of whimsical fuckery in our lives. We also need virtual friends. We all secretly know that our real world friends are sick of our relentless bitching. Our virtual friends actually log on just for the privilege of being our personal voyeurs. When you’re traversing cyber communities you get to see dozens of pictures of people you will most likely never meet at some random child’s second birthday party while still being able to brag about your non-existent sex life. No, I’m not saying it’s non-existent. I’m just saying that it’s a lot better when it’s coming from pure imagination. Everyone I’ve ever talked to on the Internet has had at least one three way with a Hollywood celebrity and one random hooker. No, you didn’t do this with your girlfriend/boyfriend/best friend. Those people would know better than to believe you if you claimed to score with Lindsay Lohan or those Twitard guys.

That was the only pussy you got at that party. You know this, and yet you still persist.

On the dating front, Facebook is a valuable tool for putting one over on people. For example, in the virtual world I’m sexy and ethereal. Take a look.

I am a blonde in real life, but my wings are much more bat-like.

I look just like that in real life. Well, maybe my skin is a little paler. I took some liberties when constructing an avatar. And that brings me to a final point. I love voyeur reality when it’s tainted by delusion. Self-aggrandizement is part of human nature. I’ve met former classmates that are now the King of Burundi or the CEO of a major Fortune 500 company. I know people who have met every notable political figure and/or celebrity in existence. I’m now friends with somebody who speaks Klingon. It’s a useful skill, really, because how often will you actually bump into somebody who speaks Spanish or Mandarin in this world? Klingon is the perfect language to start the kids on. It comes in handy in every day life.

Look, I’m hooked on the fuckery just like a vast majority of us. I only stop to go on a rant every once and a while, and I can’t play with dangerous chemicals all day. Besides, why go outside in the rain when I can harvest my virtual tomatoes?

Don’t worry I’ll be right there with my virtual flame thrower. Think of it as an intervention.

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