Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Crackbook


Everything you never cared to know about people you don't know

"Dawne is writing Ruby's Road and going for coffee..."

There was once a time we could actually get our email delivered directly into our personal account instead of having to sign into Facebook. Growing exponentially the past several months, the network of members seems to enjoy spending hours reading about someone's acquaintances' acquaintances. I get messages about people I don't know – who are commenting on comments made by someone else's friend – whom I've accepted into my circle merely out of courtesy. It's beyond the realm of six degrees of separation.

Facebook is a persistent pusher with potent addictive product. If I'm on my computer, I'm forced to check my profile every five minutes because a continual stream of dozens of notifications have taken over my email inbox – friends changing their status, profile photos, sending plants for virtual gardens that somehow enhance the ecosystem. Rows and rows of messages from Facebook download into my email server bringing cocktails or kisses, sea creatures for sea gardens, and announcements of friends signing up for groups with a purpose: "I Like Michael Phelps Even More Because He Smokes a Bong" or "I'll Never Join a Group." You can even set Facebook to remind you to take your birth control pill daily.

The latest fad among fanatics is to tag your friends and require them to write Twenty-five Random Facts about themselves... which are then sold to online data harvesters and marketers who are collecting more information than the FBI could ever have hoped for back in the days when wire tapping was a violation of our privacy and rights.

Thanks to Facebook we know what kind of underwear you prefer, when you go for coffee, who you're sleeping with, what you had for dinner and when your relationship is on the rocks – because we willingly upload all our personal data, open our computer files and give access to more personal information than our own mothers even know about us – things we would never want our mothers to know. And don't think your mom isn't already on Facebook checking you out. We allow access to our inner sanctum of friends' and family email addresses to see if they're a Facebook member, and if they aren't they get an automatic invitation. When and how did the collective population of the world suddenly get either stupid or trusting enough to allow such an obvious intrusion in an era of identity theft?

My theory is that everybody wants to be a star and you get your moment of glamour and glory on Facebook (although everyone knows all the rock stars are on myspace). Facebook serves as the town crier, a party notification center, birth announcer, updating your relationship status: married, divorced, single, or "in a relationship but it's difficult." One of my single girlfriends clicked the wrong box and accidentally posted that she was engaged. No less than forty-seven people commented immediately about her status change with quips from horrified men to shocked relatives and amused girlfriends. Those who knew her played along with the pun it evolved into, especially after she changed her status back to single – "His loss." "You can do so much better." "He wasn't worthy." "Bastard!"

Although I've reconnected with several long lost friends, it works in reverse as well... people you don't want to reintroduce into your life may also find you. One friend deleted her Facebook page immediately when her traumatizing childhood babysitter found her profile and asked to become her friend. I received a friend request from my ex-husband's third ex-wife – I accepted. What a great outlet for slanderously gratifying comparisons for all the world to read.

Even if you're rejected by a requested "friend" you can still view anyone's friends anytime, which enhances the ability of Facebook Stalkers. One of my male Facebook buddies prowled through my list of girlfriends, adding them as friends even though he'd never met them. I suddenly realized that 99 percent of his 1,863 friends were comprised of women – girlfriends of girlfriends of girlfriends. I can't imagine what his hourly email looks like with all the status and photo updates. I'll bet he comments on every one of them too.

How did we ever manage without these life coach middleman acting as entertainment coordinators who send our personal messages along in exciting little email bundles – so-and-so left a message on your wall, you have 15 invites, you have 7 lil green patch requests, 1,297 of your closest friends are attending a virtual cocktail party. What good is that without real gin and social discourse?

Through Facebook we are more involved with each other's lives now, but there's less connectivity. I can simply check my Facebook home page and see what you and all your friends are doing without ever having to be in contact. One singular comment is all I have to post to acknowledge your existence, and mine. Friendship simplified, condensed and without all the fuss and time consuming conversation.

Don't get me wrong – I love all forms of communication and do enjoy the headline updates posted daily by friends and acquaintances. And yes, I check my Facebook several times daily. You can even join our newspaper's Facebook group "We Get It Weekly" and I would sincerely love to add you as a friend to my personal page – as soon as I get back from dinner with face to face live friends and a couple of real martinis.