There's certainly a lot to like about you. We can stay in touch with friends and family, share news and photos and comment on each other's lives in the most convenient way. You're so convenient Facebook! In other words, we can stay connected, show we care and be socially polite without having to be trapped in an hour-long phone conversation when we'd rather be watching
Criminal Minds. And for that Facebook I will be eternally grateful.
But I'm starting to realize there's a downside to you. You're robbing us of something Facebook. The right to be nostalgic. You are single-handedly wiping out the phrase "long lost." Because of you Facebook we never lose anybody! We are able (and often expected) to stay in touch with every single person we have ever met. You've taken away our ability to wonder "Whatever happened to so and so?" Gone are the days of reminiscing about that cute baseball player from high school and wondering what he looks like now. Because of you Facebook we know exactly what he looks like now. Thanks a lot.
Because it seems like everyone is connected to you Facebook, or at least friends of friends, or at the very least still in touch with someone who is connected. There's no mystery left! We are bombarded with status updates and news and photos everyday. There's no room for "I wonder." And do you know what you've done to fiction writers Facebook? The story of the troubled hero who embarks on a voyage of self-discovery as he travels to find his long-lost love can no longer be written. Because of you it isn't feasible. What's poor Danielle Steele going to do now?
But still, that hour of
Criminal Minds watched with a clean social conscience means a lot. So I'll forgive you for the rest Facebook.
Sincerely,
PC
You sure are a cranky ol' bastard. And shocking. You called Mother Teresa a fraud! But I think your voice of reason is necessary in this day and age. And even though you're a sarcastic SOB who smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish, you allowed yourself to be water boarded and primped like a girl for Vanity Fair. So you can't be all that bad! I'd love to have lunch with you and just listen to your views on life. But even if such an invitation were to arrive I could never attend. I'd be too afraid that after our meeting you'd go home and suddenly feel inspired to write a piece entitled "Silly And Irrelevant People I've Recently Been Forced To Endure Lunch With." So thanks but no thanks.