Humor by Jen Lancaster

"The Social Network," better known as "That Facebook Movie," opened at No. 1, boasting $23 million in ticket sales. The film introduces hoodie-clad founder Mark Zuckerberg and chronicles Facebook's inception, its resulting multiple lawsuits and its current corporate valuation of $25 billion. (Side note? This movie may finally convince America that actors Jesse Eisenberg and Michael Cera are not, in fact, the same person.)

The elusive Zuckerberg has previously spoken of his desire to create an application that would change the world. Yet in the film, Facebook's genesis seems to stem from a break-up, many beers and Zuckerberg's desire to cyberstalk his ex-girlfriend more efficiently.

Regardless, what was originally supposed to be an exclusive application for Harvard students has since grown to 500 million members, including me. I was a huge fan of Facebook when I first joined. I appreciated how I could keep in touch with old friends, send messages, post photos and . . . more efficiently spy on my old high school nemeses.

But at this point, I find Facebook exhausting, not exhilarating. The problem is many stopped relying on it as a supplemental communication device and started to live on it. Suddenly, perfectly rational individuals looked to Facebook as less of a networking tool and more of a way to inadvertently (yet profoundly) annoy friends, family and colleagues.

Certain types of Facebookers have ruined it for everyone. First, there are the No Thought Left Behinders. These users won't be satisfied until they share every single musing to enter their head. A quick glance at their wall includes such compelling missives as "I'm bored!" and "I'm hungry!" and "I forgot to floss!"

These briefs inevitably include a morning post along the lines of "I don't want to go to work!" This sentiment must come as a shock to their hundreds of connections who surely dash out the door with smiles on their faces and songs in their hearts at the prospect of sitting in four-hour staff meetings where the bosses they hate prattle on about "mission statements." Some people don't need a Facebook account; they need an internal monologue.

I'm particularly irritated by the Application Junkies. I understand that sometimes computer games can be infatuating, but I beg these addicts to leave me out of it.

So we're clear, I don't want to be a capo in anyone's Mafia War, I don't care what pretend vegetables were just harvested in FarmVille, and I swear if I'm poked one more time, I'm going to burn someone's house down. I'm telling you Application Junkies this as a friend: Stay away from Facebook at work because you're absolutely going to get fired and then I can't even imagine how much time you'll have to bother me.

I find the Cause Crew particularly insidious. These hapless do-gooders are perpetually forwarding links about their fight against (or for) the cause du jour. If I don't "like" the cause, too, then I'm the jerk who doesn't care about stray dogs or homelessness or cancer.

But how about this: If causes are such a priority to the sender, why not actually do something physically, rather than virtually? Take the two hours wasted in front of a computer monitor and volunteer at a soup kitchen, work at animal shelter or raise funds for cancer research. That way those who need help will get it . . . and I can finally unblock certain profiles.

The bottom line is this: Zuckerberg and his team created Facebook to be an exclusive tool, accessible only to the best and the brightest. But now everyone's here and, frankly, they're spoiling it.

Also, any application that can be readily accessed by our grandmothers can no longer be considered "killer." And it's just a matter of time before Nana cracks open the liquor cabinet and figures out how to cyberstalk her old boyfriends.

Humor & Satire

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