I started using Facebook years ago to learn the how and why of its appeal. I discovered that there was and is a unique communal opportunity that doesn’t exist with any other media. Fascinated, I joined in and built two distinct groups of “friends,” personal and business.
I’ve occasionally noticed people warning others to watch out for this or that link, which might lead to spam problems, but until recently I had not encountered anything myself. My nephew “posted” a video last week insisting, “You have to watch this!” It was titled “Watch Hot Girls Fight.” Wow. OK. After all, it’s my nephew (not). Like a stupid-as-a-bat Mississippi carp, I chomped on that big piece of bacon fat—hook, line, and sinker.
For the record, I did not watch the video, but by merely clicking on the link, it automatically posted on my Facebook page, for all 412 of my friends to see. AARRGGHH—spammed by some cheesy, slimeball dude hunched over a computer somewhere in a basement apartment in Mumbai or Albuquerque.
I get a lot of very interesting information and perspective from my Facebook friends, a group of very intelligent, influential, and thoughtful people. And today I unknowingly sent them a ridiculous video called “Watch Hot Girls Fight.”
If I may call you Mark, Mr. Zuckerberg, sir, you have more resources available to you than the Republic of Germany. But for being a $100 billion dollar company, you’re acting like a cheap-ass 1-800 direct-response company selling ab builders or Veg-O-Matics. Maybe because you’re still just a punk kid, under that hoodie you may not have a clue how to take good care of your “customers.” I consider myself a customer even though I don’t pay you anything, but I assume you want me there in order to sell me something at some point, right?
Look, I’m just a third-rate blogger out here in fly-over country, so that doesn’t give me much leverage with you. But, I have no interest in running the risk of insulting my friends and colleagues, embarrassing myself, just because you can’t figure out how to protect my identity on your social playground.
Look, I know you’re having trouble with the Winklevoss twins and Mr. Ceglia over whose idea Facebook really was. Frankly, I don’t care. I just want to feel safe on whoever’s site it is.
Barring that, I may go find some monkey bars in another neighborhood.