Facebook fulminations

RE: Bill’s “trying to keep up with Facebook.......”
“Do I even wanna do this?” I heard from the old ‘pyooter-programmer in the other room.
“Facebook is turning into a monstrous hairball.
Click friends in common, and invitations to be friends, and before ya know it ya got 89 bazilyun friends.
In which case I get a gigantic scroll-down home page noting every burp and fart listed on the left: somebody picked their nose; someone’s building an ark because it’s raining.
How am I supposed to weed through all that stuff? —Find interesting stuff amidst 89 bazilyun postings? —Do I even care?
It was already a struggle trying to keep up with FlagOut: Jack’s latest tirade — seems there were always at least seven.
Now we just multiply all the postings by about 100, and dumb everything down.”
“YEP,” I said. “I inadvertently joined Facebook because Anmari Linardi (“Anne-Marie lynn-AR-dee”) had invited me as a friend.
By responding to a Facebook e-mail, I joined Facebook.
And FireFox (“Fox-Fire”) keeps me logged in.
It’s their old “save tabs” feature that also keeps me logged into my blog and FlagOut.
I have it saving four active tabs: -1) the Curve web-cam; -2) my blog; -3) FlagOut; and -4) Facebook.
Facebook is arraying every belch and fart everyone did since the beginning of time.
What I look for is the Marcy posts.
Facebook is only a means of communicating, and it reflects the intellectual wherewithal of its users.
And Marcy, bless her, far as I’ve noticed, is the onliest one posting at my level.
I posted a comment on her “wall” about “Twitter” perhaps being better than Facebook.
So she blasted back she was aware of that, but thought Facebook was better.
“Twitter” reminds me of Bobby Day’s “Rockin Robin;” so I Googled Rockin Robin lyrics and posted the first verse on Marcy’s wall.
Marcy, of course, ran with it.
She fired back the second verse.
So I fired back the chorus:
“Rockin’ robin (tweet tweet tweedlee-DEET!)
Rockin’ robin (tweet tweet tweedlee-DEET!)
Oh rockin' robin well you really gonna rock tonight......”
Our exchange is the longest and most entertaining on my otherwise turgid Facebook home page.
Which proves to me yet again it ain’t the software, it’s the user!
If you’re entertained by reading about every fart and belch of your 89 bazilyun friends, use Facebook.
If ya need 89 bazilyun friends to feel viable, use Facebook.
I have a Facebook account, by default, but all I look at is the Marcy posts (and other Ne’er-do-Wells). That’s about 5% of the posts.
Other than that, Facebook is a hairball; seems Marcy and I could be just as well using e-mail as Facebook.

“Bill” is my younger brother in northern Delaware. He has opened a Facebook account, and now has over 150 “friends.” —He is trumpeting the superiority of Facebook over our family’s web-site (“FlagOut”), and those that don’t agree with him are out-of-it. He fiddles his Facebook account instead of our family’s web-site.

“The old ‘pyooter-programmer in the other room” is of course my wife of 40+ years, “Linda.” She retired as a computer-programmer at a large printing company where she worked over 30 years. She has her own computer in our spare bedroom.

“FlagOut” is our family’s web-site, named that because I had a mentally-retarded kid-brother (Down Syndrome) who lived at home, and loudly insisted the flag be flown every day. “Flag-Out! Sun comes up, the flag goes up! Sun goes down, the flag comes down.” I fly the flag partly in his honor. (He died at 14 in 1968.)

“Jack” is my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston. He noisily badmouths everything I do or say. He’s older than Bill — but only by a year. He’s 13 years younger than me.

“Anmari Linardi” is an ex photographer for the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired. She’s one of my Ne’er-do-Wells. (The “Ne’er-do-Wells” are an e-mail list of everyone I e-mail my stuff to.)

“FireFox” is my Internet browser. My siblings all call it “Fox-Fire” because they think it’s abhorrent and unGodly compared to Microsoft Internet-Explorer. “FireFox” is the browser I use to fiddle this blog, and was suggested by them. Internet-Explorer doesn’t even work properly.

The Curve (“Horseshoe Curve”), west of Altoona, Pennsylvania, is by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is a national historic site. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. (I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child.) —Horseshoe Curve has a web-cam, but it’s awful.

“Marcy” is my number-one Ne’er-do-Well — she was the first I was e-mailing stuff to. Marcy and I worked in adjacent cubicles at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired. A picture of her is in this blog at Conclave of Ne’er-do-Wells. She lives near Boston, and married an ex Messenger reporter.

“Rockin Robin,” a rock-n-roll song by Bobby Day, was popular back in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. It featured a jazzy flute.