I got to thinking the other day, what was life like before Facebook?
I have to admit that I’m growing tired of the social media site that turned us all into voyeuristic animals seeking to quench an insatiable desire to peer into the lives of people we love and lust. But I can’t seem to remember what life was like in a pre-Facebook era.
Instead of crawling into bed at night and watching reruns of I Love Lucy, the only glow being emitted from a screen now comes from my iPad as I scroll through my newsfeed gawking at what my friends did after work and who they broke up with earlier in the day.
Friday and Saturday nights I find to be the most entertaining. Maybe all my friends are a little to dependent on alcohol to have a good time, but some posts on those nights are quite interesting. I really enjoy the passed-out-next-to-the-toilet picture that occasionally scrolls by, or the one that was snapped inside someone’s pants pocket and mysteriously got posted. I guess that’s the camera’s version of a butt-dial.
When there’s breaking news in the world, I don’t turn to CNN or Fox or one of the other heavily leaning left or right media outlets to tell me what’s going on, I turn to Facebook. At least I know I’m going to get 250 different versions of the story complete with commentary that often times amazes, befuddles and alarms me.
Take the current situation in Syria for example.
While everyone is debating on whether or not we should bomb the hell out of the country that gasses their own people, the focus suddenly switches to John McCain’s proficiency in iPhone poker playing.
I won’t even touch the photo that has been making its rounds on Facebook of Mr. Obama with his foot on the desk in the Oval Office. That’s just too hot of a political issue for me to dive into.
The last biggest dance routine I heard of was the mackarena, but now thanks to the offspring of the man who brought us Achy Breaky Heart, I now know what it is to “twerk.” I wonder if I can sue Miley Cyrus and Facebook for mental anguish for subjecting me to countless videos of what it’s like to “twerk.”
(Note to my readers, if you’re not a size 4 or less, please don’t twerp and then post a video. The world thanks you.)
Before there was Facebook, the only time I would know if a friend of mine was sick would be after the fact. “Oh, you didn’t call to check on me while I was sick for four days.”
Sorry, I didn’t know.
Right now my newsfeed has at least six posts from people saying they are nearly-dead with the sniffles and in pure marketing fashion, Facebook suggests that I send them a bouquet of flowers or a Starbucks gift card to make them feel better.
I’m tempted to post, “Having one kidney taken out today at 2pm, followed by a hemorrhoidectomy, tummy-tuck and penis enlargement surgery,” just to see how many people send me that gift card. (Another note to my readers, I don’t drink coffee, go for the Target card.)
Life before Facebook must have been great. I just wish I could remember what it was like.
We probably went to visit people in person. Stopping by a neighbors home with a bottle of Dago Red and sipping it on the front porch while watching people walk down the street, has been replaced by an online chat from deep within our bunker (aka house).
When it was someone’s birthday, we headed to the corner drug store to buy a greeting card, write a personal message inside, lick a stamp and mail it. Today a simple “HBD” on their Facebook wall is the new American greeting.
Workers used to work a solid eight hours a day, nose to the grindstone. Today, about two of those eight hours are spent posting, reading, chatting and fawning over cat pictures on Facebook.
If you wanted to know what your sister had for dinner, you used to have to call her up and ask. Thanks to Facebook, all you have to do is go online and Bingo! There it is. Stuffed cabbage, mashed potatoes, green beans and a microwaved piece of apple pie. You even comment on the photo with an obligatory “yum” even if the beans look like they came from a can.
Life before Facebook must have been challenging.
If I could only remember what it was like.