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The Rejection of the Communication Method of the Second New Decade

Supposing that this second millennium A.D. marks a new set of decades distinct from all other decades before (and it does in so many ways both glorious and repulsive), and supposing that Facebook is the communication method of this first and second decade of the second millennium, I, ladies and gentlemen, have rejected the communication method of the second new decade.

After considering quitting ever since I starting using it and upon reading this wondrous article about a computer scientist who decided to drop his use of email entirely, I decided to make a similar change in my own life.

Facebook: the epitome– the armpit, as it were– of all mediocrity.

No! you cry. It’s why I’m happy! It’s why I wake up in the morning! It’s how I met my wife! It’s my entire life!

Whatever. Here’s a Kleenex.

What’s the first thing I think about when I see McDonald’s? Facebook. What’s the first thing I think about when I witness a pair of seventeen-year-olds exchanging saliva? Facebook. What’s the first thing I think about when I see a Twilight advertisement? Facebook. What’s the first thing I think about when someone blasts up their High School Musical CD? Facebook. What’s the first thing I think about when I witness 40-year-old men going to verbal and sometimes physical blows over the outcome of a sports event? Facebook. What’s the first thing I think of when I witness a male drooling over a woman with fewer clothes on than my dog? Facebook. What’s the first thing I think about when a man high on heroine sits next to me on the train? Facebook. And tazers.

What do all of these subjects have in common (aside from the fact that they’ve nothing to do with Facebook)? They’re all of them entirely mediocritous. Why is Facebook mediocritous? In lieu of saving online bytes (and my time), I won’t reiterate; instead, you can read why here.

In combination with my utter hatred of the Great Blue Beast, reading that article, and probably receiving some sacred gifts the other day, I changed the lock and then had the blacksmith destroy the key. For those too addicted to the Fascistbook that their minds have now completely melted, this is an allegory that basically says, “I changed my password to my Facebook account to a generated 21-character string and destroyed any evidence of that string so that I would have no way of breaking back in.” It’s been 24 hours, and already I feel twice as splendid as I ever have the past year and a half.

True, there are a handful of people who I would really love to stay in contact with more often than a brief visit at a funeral or a marriage or a farewell and who I would hope would like to stay in contact with me in the same way, but I find that Facebook is an unnecessary evil as it provides the means of communication at the cost of self-control. By putting a little more effort into it (and this makes it that much more rewarding to both the recipient and the giver), a person can send a message much more personal via email, vintage mail, telephonic conversations, or even– imagine this– a face-to-face meeting!

Because I would hope that a person might once in a while step out of the Facebook stadium and walk across the street to the wood wherein my comfortable cottage resides, I’ve left breadcrumbs for them to follow. On my Facebook account I’ve left my email address, phone number (which one can text me and call me via Google Voice), and vintage address, not to mention links to my websites and an application that will automatically post links to each new post published here. If you desire to be in contact with me, I suggest you firstly send a message via my contact page, and then I would be extremely glad to talk to you via any of the aforementioned “archaic” communication methods.

Of course, I have only two weeks before I serve my LDS mission (where Facebook isn’t even allowed, thank heaven, though some bone-headed elders still decide to break the rules to get their periodical Faceadermic needle), so some might say that this made it easier to detach myself from the Big Blue Brother, but I honestly have become so frustrated and so disgusted with the service and with how the bulk of its 400 million members abuse the service (and we know the Facebook company wants them to abuse the service) that my fed-up levels overcame any desire I had to easily contact folks; I have no intentions of regressing when I return home– in fact, I have every intention not to.

Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday! Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live amongst such excellent and admirable Hobbits. I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. I er … I have things to do. I’ve put this off for far too long… I regret to announce this is the end. I’m going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye.