People You Hate on Facebook
Just like the Matrix, the Internet has gone through several incarnations in its sentient quest toward perfection. Remember 1996? Remember watching a lot of JenniCam? Remember downloading funny Wayne's World gifs to put on your homepage? Remember reading "underground" wrestling news sites between bouts of watching more JenniCam?
Okay, maybe you weren't me 13 years ago. Whatever. A lot has changed since then: Right now I'm Torrenting all the dirty video highlights from JenniCam while video blogging about John Cena and sending my old roommate pictures of SNL skits-turned-movies on Facebook just because.
I love social networking more than anything. Facebook, though. Not MySpace. MySpace is for bands and hooking up with scene chicks when you're back home for Christmas. Facebook, on the other hand, is a respectable tool used to communicate with people you know. People like your mom (Limited Profile), your boss (Limited Profile), your best friend from high school (Limited Profile) and your girlfriend (Limited Profile). And by "communicate with," I mean "hide your profane, secret lifestyle from."
All of this personal exposure-- all of this culture surrounding You-- has given rise to the pariahs of Facebook. Jerks who feed on the nature of the beast. Idiots that throw a monkey wrench into your relaxing semisocial experience. You know the ones.
Or maybe you aren't familiar with the beasts I bemoan. Allow me to introduce you a few types of people you absolutely hate on Facebook. I've attached pictures.
The Guy Who's Not on Facebook
The first person who annoys me on Facebook is, ironically, not on Facebook at all. He's the person who is scared of Facebook for privacy reasons. Or maybe he's doing it just to be cool-- totally counterculture. Whatever the reason, he refuses to get with the program and provide three easy-to-access pieces of information in order to join the digital revoluciĆ³n.
To the Guy Who's Not on Facebook: Get real. There is no world outside of the Internet anymore. The real world is the Internet. Google e-mails me breakfast every morning for Christsakes, and it's fucking delicious. Sure, I had to give them my social security number in return for a delicious picture of orange juice and a bagel covered in lox and capers, but it's a price I'm willing to pay for the convenience.
So what if advertisers know that you love the Jonas Brothers and The Boondock Saints? So does the CIA, and you put a waterboard's worth of trust in them. Trust the corporations: They're hiring.
The Critic
I suppose it's sort of ironic that I hate this sort of person, considering I have my own well-formed opinions and you're reading them right now. But I also leave a lot of my opinions to myself and try not to do it all the time. I know what it's like to be hassled all the time about your opinions, thanks to these jokers.
The Critic is the person who looks at everything you post on Facebook and tells you that you're wrong. Is your status related to a song you like? That song is worse than Three Doors Down's National Guard advertisement. Did you post a link to your favorite new restaurant? Papercuts have more flavor than their cheeseburgers. This person thinks every band you enjoy is an audio abortion and every movie you list as a favorite is a visual vulgarity.
Most of these people have sharpened their ability to argue against you, but are pretty bad at defending their own opinions. There's an encyclopedic volume of psychology literature dedicated to the fact that these people are actually soft-spoken cowards in real life. Not the Internet real life I was talking about earlier, but the one where you go to class and learn stuff before getting drunk at 2pm. Find these Critics and stare them down next time you see them. They will cry. It's a doctor-recommended remedy to your distress.
The Appmonger
I wake up every day and after eating my digital Jewish breakfast, I wade through all of my Facebook application invites. My friends really know me. They know my affinity for things like "Compare Friends," "Which Desperate Housewives Mailman Are You," "Enhanced Texas Hold-Em.biz,"and "Contribute to my Birthday Cause." But I've already got all the applications I want, so I have to spend time deleting all these invites. And after I'm done I leave my apartment and swing by the unemployment office to pick up my check before continuing to the hospital to have fluids fed to me intravenously because I've spent twenty days deleting application invites and not eating or working.
I am a victim of the Appmonger. There are only two explanations as to why this sort of person exists. Either there are people-- groups of people!-- out there who enjoy having twenty different Facebook apps installed on their profile and they wish to share this elation with others, or people are knowingly trying to kill me using the Internet. Damn, you know my weakness.
The Kid You Know Well Enough to Friend
One of the most awkward thing about the online world is drawing the definition of a "Friend." Don't worry: The hot girl next to you in class is most definitely your friend, regardless of whether you've ever spoken to her or not. But what about that creepy kid in the back of class that, one day, decided to send you a friend invite out of nowhere? You had a group project with him, once, and he's in like five of your other classes. I mean, why not?
Don't do it! The subtle, real-real life awkwardness is simply a portent of awkward situations to come. When you accept Facebook friend invites from the kid you don't know, you're limiting yourself to a few possible online outcomes. In one familiar situation, you will be inundated with their personal life on your News Feed, forever, and not have the guts to remove them. Maybe you'll enjoy reading about them for a while, sure, but things are going to get ugly when they start dating your ex.
A more likely situation is that they will turn out to be one of the archetypes above, and you will just have more Facebook friends you hate. There's always a slim chance that they're a serial murderer and friending them will spare your life later on. I think not. Obviously, the most probable outcome is that they barge into your hotel room one night and hold you at knifepoint while they take pictures of you screwing your wife.
3 comments:
your insight, as always, is breathtaking. how do you do it, mr barnhart?
...i bet it's that jewish breakfast you get through da interwebz.
Quid facit Sextus? Are you forgetting to tell your friends that you're Kyle and I'm Mr. Barnhart?
I enjoyed your use of pictures.
http://www.holytaco.com/10-worst-types-drunks
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