About a half an hour ago I canceled my Google+ account. I used to be on Facebook too, for about a half an hour, until I realized that almost all the people I had “friended”, people with whom I had common interests and shared passions (when I still had passion), were people I did not actually know. The same pattern was developing on Google’s version of “let’s all say nothing together”, but I decided to club it in the head before it could grow any uglier.
My “in the flesh” friends are not at all interested in the fact that we are rapidly descending into a third-world feudal corporatocracy, and their fascination with social networking is a little too frivolous and depressing for my taste. It’s hard for me to get excited about what kind of pancakes someone had for dinner while a fifth of American children are living in poverty and no one wants to even talk about it. In fact, I often find myself being loudly ignored and sometimes politely shunned for even bringing up such unpleasantries during nap time, which clearly is most of the time for many Americans.
These lame-brained social networking sites are as much to blame for turning America into a nation of idiots than anything else. Google, for example, prides itself on not “being evil” while they rake in billions and look the other way as .1 percent of the country turns the rest of us into slaves. They have the means to inform millions of Americans precisely what’s being done to them and they refuse to do so. That’s evil.
Facebook is another abomination, and could claim to be the original, online social time-waster if not for MySpace, which has, thankfully, been relegated to the internet discount rack. Never have I encountered so many vapid, word-filled pages. It’s like packing peanuts for the mind. Whether it’s people’s television favorites, their favorite recipes, their favorite sports heroes, their favorite favorites, top ten lists an infinitum, what their kid excreted last night and how much, which Brady Bunch kid is the cutest, the similarity between characters on The Love Boat and characters on Gilligan’s Island, the disease of America is there for all to see, three thousand miles wide and a quarter inch deep. It’s like a worldwide game of tag where everybody is “it”. And about as pointless.
Just for yucks I tried Twitter too. Oh, my sweet freakin’ lord. If Facebook dwells on useless minutia, Twitter elevates it to celebrity status and worships it like a golden poodle.
The following are actual Tweets I found on various websites. So help me Gawd.
“I really want a baby duck, but I don’t know if I could have it in my apartment. maybe Ill get a fish, or a lightning bug. whatcha think?”
“We’re gonna revolutionize Sunday mornings y’all!”
“No, no, I didn’t go to England; I went to London”
“my new obsession is animal crackers nom nom.”
“hes not that into you because you smell like fish”
“Why is that people always try to understand estimate my intelligents?! They should never do that!”
“I’ve got a coffee stain on my new pants and I’m SOOOO upset about it.” (OK, that one I made up)
“I just took “what part of ur body will justin bieber see first?” and got: your smile!”
“Awww our sigeps made us dindin<3”
“poop i normal outside. i want it to rain, hard”
“Selena Marie Gomez. A girl who taught me to be myself. She’s a true role model. I love her. ;)”
I could go on, for days, but I just ate. I’d recommend mercy lobotomies for these Twitterazzi droids, but apparently someone beat me to it.
Have we always been this shallow? Was there ever a time in America when people weren’t completely consumed by useless conversations, useless celebrities, and even more useless factoids? Did we ever, as a society, concern ourselves with actual issues rather than the latest episode of Desperate Housewives or which body parts to display when ogled by a pubescent singer? Am I just a cranky, maladjusted curmudgeon because I find mindless internet babble irritating and depressing? Am I being unreasonable to expect human beings to crave their own evolution rather than feast on junk trivia?
IDK. ROFLOL!!! TTYL