I admit I've recently started using Facebook. I'm not pleased about it, but I have had some good fun catching up with old friends, etc. I can definitely see how it could be addictive. For a long while I was one of the naysayers, and still have a glimmer of 'nay' in my mind. The best I've read on that is from this article. One of my favorite bits:
For the five or six Amish shut-ins who may not yet have heard of this scourge (your tenacious ignorance is to be admired, and I'd immediately friend you if I was into Facebook and you had electricity), Facebook is an on-line community where colleagues, friends, long-lost acquaintances, friends of friends or long-lost acquaintances, and perfect strangers find and "friend" each other based on their real or perceived affinity. They then have access to each other's web pages, and consequently to each other's lives, quirks, photos, jottings, oversharings, and mental disorders, as well as to those of the ever-expanding universe of their friends' circles, thus increasing the likelihood that you will either embarrass yourself or be embarrassed by someone whose life would never otherwise intersect with yours. (Right about now, a Facetard is ginning up an angry letter to the editor saying this would not be the case if you know how to control your privacy settings. Save the geek speech for your Facebook friends, Facetard, I already got my eight hours sleep.)
Another classic bit, is about how the author's wife is a Facebook addict, and what she's becoming is troubling her mightily:
But slowly, I noticed things taking a turn. The cosmetic stuff, like her immaculate appearance and hygiene, stayed the same. Nor did I see her do anything too creepy or severe, such as sending pictures of her feet at the request of a new Facebook friend or running out to some hot-sheets motel to get worked like a farm implement by an old high-school flame who'd renewed contact (which happens with some frequency on Facebook). But I did notice a general distractedness, a vacantness, a thousand-yard-stare. She seemed to notice it too. In the old days, she'd check her email maybe once or twice a day. Now, she was hitting her laptop like a rat hits a lever for pellets in a Skinner box.
"I hate myself," she'd say.
"Why?" I'd ask.
"Because I'm becoming you," she said.
If Facebook turns attentive wives into their husbands, then it can't be all good.
Next I bumped into a YouTube video that walks you through a Facebook experience, if it happened in real life. Must watch YT, click here.
Poke,
Thomas More
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