Monday, July 04, 2011

Dance Fascists

Facebook...

It's losing it's appeal, apparently. This doesn't surprise me, because as the years pass, humans become less committed to things. The MTV generation always have something new to elevate to.

Facebook execs can argue that some areas of the world are facing saturation point and there was going to be a logical slowing down of their empire's move across the globe; but the truth is I'm not the only person who is cutting down the amount of time I spend on it.

The reality for me is that because of email notifications, part of the main reason for going onto the site is made redundant. The only other reason, I can see, for being logged in is to see what my friends have got to say or what they're doing. That too can be something that can sometimes take upwards of 30 seconds to check.

My mate Chev rages over the injustice of Facebook's privacy policies, but I think he should be raging about the massive con trick that Zuckerberg and his cronies have perpetrated. It has effectively become an operating system to young people. they can access whatever they like through it, from records to videos to news and all manner of games bollocks. Facebook is the portal to the rest of the world and you get to know that your mate has just had a really big shit!

Has anyone ever texted Facebook to confirm you are who you claim to be? I was prompted for this a couple of years ago, when I started to post blogs. Every time I tried to post something it would ask me to complete one of the Captcha things to confirm I wasn't a robot and posting spam to... my... own... page... ..?

For eighteen months, once I confirmed I existed, Facebook never bothered to ask me for proof and then a few weeks ago it started to do it again, asking me to confirm my reality by filling in a Captcha Box. Perhaps I'm no longer who I said I was? It is yet another little panel pin in the coffin of my staying.

Also, this 'hit enter and it gets published' nonsense when replying to peoples comments. You hit the enter button or hard return as I still refer to it as and you can forget about editing what you said; it's up there warts and all...

I've also discovered that people I know 'like' some of the strangest things imaginable. I don't know if it's some kind of elaborate phishing mechanism, but at least one of my friends allegedly plays Mafia Wars, when I asked her, she said the only thing she plays on Facebook is the Scrabble application. Perhaps there's an insidious algorithm designed to tell you that a friend plays a game so that you will be tempted try it out?

Another of my friends is the victim of tagging spam - where he is tagged in photos despite not being on the particular page's list of followers. He has discovered he can't contact the spammer directly and trying to get in touch with Facebook is like trying to get an audience with the pope with a collection of sex toys and flavoured condoms.

All I know is that while Facebook is excellent as a self-publicity tool, it also exposes just how mundane most of our lives are.

I'm pissed off with it; and despite recommendations from people who should know better I wouldn't do Twitter. I struggle to update my Facebook status now that it is no longer the sole reason to use it, so waffling inanely for 144 characters is as appealing as having a garden hose inserted into my Jap's eye.

I see an email revival happening. For starters you have more chance of them being private...

***

The interview went... well, I don't really know. I know I was sweating profusely and I think I had a couple of waffly moments, but the questions ended up being easier than I expected, which threw me slightly after the extensive OxBridge styled grilling I got when I tried to apply for a job at my most recent employer.

I'm going to sit on the fence, but I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't get it. The next interview is in Corby for a job based in Daventry for an organisation working out of Kettering...

***

At 1:00pm it was 25 degrees and hot, now it's is cool and raining, less than two hours later. Go figure.

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