Entry 677: Facebook Follies

You have to hand it to Mark Zuckerberg. Perhaps nobody in human history has ever invented a bigger waste of time.

Just one day’s worth of examples…

You can submit your photo to sites that promise to tell you what celebrity or nationality your face resembles. Evidently I know three different people who supposedly resemble Elizabeth Taylor, none of whom even faintly resembles Elizabeth Taylor until their faces are subjected to some sort of algorithm that could probably make me resemble Elizabeth Taylor.

You can also find out critical facts about yourself, like who badly wants a relationship with you, what tattoo you should get, and how much of an asshole you really are. It’s like an online version of the old coin-operated scales that dispensed a piece of paper with your fortune. Except then, you weren’t giving your public profile, friend list, email address, birthday, photos and likes to sites like MeowShare, whatever the hell that is.  I understand that these kinds of things can be entertaining, but are people really so bored that they don’t mind random businesses getting all that information about them?

And, by the way, I can tell you without assistance that the celebrity I most resemble is Rob Reiner. Also, I can guarantee you that I am not French. Not even a little bit. I don’t even like French food.

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Facebook has all these hypothetical questions to answer. For instance: “You have $10 million dollars but can only use it to buy things that start with the first letter of your name. What would you buy?” I mean, how is Zack supposed to answer that?  How many zeppelins can you really use?

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There are also all sorts of inspirational messages for me to ignore. Like the one at right. I am positive. I’m positive that I hate posts like this.

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My daughter had been in Vermont, and posted this video on Facebook. Believe it or not, the still frames at left are from three different points in the video. You can click this link if you want to see it, but the still frames still won’t move.

Soon after, my wife Barbara came into my office.  “Did you see the video Casey posted?” she asked.

“You mean the moose?”

“Is that what it is? I thought it was a bull. Or a bear.”

So, of course, Barbara texted Casey. And then reported back with the answer: “It’s a rock.”

“A rock?”

“She liked the way the light was hitting it.”

Who the hell takes video of a rock?

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Speaking of my lovely wife, she recently posted: “Coming to Yonkers! A great addition.” That was the entire post.

“What’s coming to Yonkers?” I yelled, because I knew she was somewhere in the house. She came into my office and looked at my screen. “Oh, there’s no link?” she said, and marched out again, while I went on to more productive pursuits, like seeing if my president had sent out any more of his entertaining tweets.

When she passed by my office moments later, I asked, “So what’s coming to Yonkers?”

“I just posted the link.”

“You’re standing right here! Can’t you just tell me?”

It was just some pizza place. Very anticlimactic.
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Speaking of food, I wish people would stop posting pictures of everything they eat in restaurants.  You’re there for dinner, not a photo shoot.

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When I open Facebook, there are a lot of posts from people I don’t know. They don’t look remotely familiar, their names don’t ring a bell, and I have no clue why I’m hearing about their thrilling lives. Take Glenn, for instance. Evidently, he would make an excellent actor. Or chemist. Or judge. I can’t think of many traits that would be assets in all three of those professions, but it certainly makes me curious to find out what Glenn actually does do for a living. And won’t he be depressed if he’s, like, an architect and just found out he missed his calling? The guy had three freakin’ choices and instead he’s designing buildings. And he’s probably horrible at it because, while there aren’t many characteristics that are common to all three of the professions he is cut out for, an eye for design isn’t necessary for any of them.

Poor Glenn. Whoever the hell he is.
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What’s up with the polls?  “Click if you think puppies shouldn’t be stacked on top of one another.”  “Share if you think God voted for Trump.”  “Like if you remember Fluffernutters.” I’ve got one: “Hang yourself if you think you spend too much time responding to stupid polls on Facebook.”

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Speaking of which, the junior senator from New York, Kristin Gillebrand, recently posted this:

URGENT: The Senate is racing toward a vote on Trumpcare. Health care for millions of Americans is at risk. I need to hear from 3,472 more people before the vote, and I still haven’t seen your response: Do you approve of President Trump?

I actually like Sen. Gillebrand although I live in Connecticut. But can she tell me how my opinion of President Trump will affect the health care vote? And what will happen differently if only 3,471 more people don’t approve of the president? These kinds of things only serve to make even the most sensible politicians look foolish, and while your vote of yes or no will do nothing to influence health care, I bet it will result in you receiving lots of political spam and fundraising emails.

Just to be safe, though, could you tell Kristin how much you hate Trump?

Thanks, and see you soon.

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