Sometime during the past ten days I read a Tweet where the writer said that they had literally fallen out of bed. Literally. Which meant only one thing: She immediately felt compelled to tell her friends and followers that she had fallen out of bed. Big time news.
Of course there must have been some rationale for this, right? Perhaps her goal was to create a kinship among people who had also fallen out of bed. If enough people responded that they too had fallen out of bed she might have been compelled to create a Facebook fan page, a Twitter handle (@FloorFinders), a LinkedIn group for professionals who have fallen out of bed, and/or a blog detailing research conducted by leading universities on why people fall out of bed. What a great way to use social media tools!
I too have fallen out of bed – but I’m an edge sleeper. But Twitter about it? Then shoot tweets back and forth – some RTs, DMs, and lest we forget about those tangential vectors whose base is in these idiotic meanderings but now have morphed into Obama, BP, and American Idol – to further add to the social septic pool? No way…talk about a demon seed.
Writing a blog post that includes mentioning falling out of bed is bad enough but I’m only using it to make a point…it’s different.
That anyone would even remotely care about someone falling out of bed is anathema to me; nowhere in all my brain synapses are there any individual synapses that feel the urge to tell the world that I have found the floor with my body. This is worse than Seinfeld and Barcelona combined; “falling out of bed” is a poster tweet that epitomizes the word banality. It is about nothing.
There are 16 billion plus Tweets out there, 400 million active Facebook users, and obviously a collective of hundreds of millions of other items associated with other social media platforms…and it all reminds me of the “social” game “Post Office” where “communication” replaces thinking. Very “Fahrenheit 451” in that the utopia of clear, free human thought is being replaced by a hidden dystopian movement where followers parrot out the messages of people whom they believe to be influential.
Yet it is important to write about it because “information” like this – really nothing more than orts of shit hanging around one’s bumhole – has clogged up our conscious airways and found its way into social media platforms and labeled – by the writer and their lemming followers – as items that are worthy of mass broadcast or scholarly discussion.
We LOL and ROFLMAO upon reading about people’s foibles and FMLs and send these morsels of the mundane to our friends, all the while claiming we are social networking and building relationships, brands, and goodwill towards men. We’ll find an article that claims something and post it as a paean to our prowess of cutting and pasting then implore our friends to retweet, digg-it, reddit, or generally speaking, stick it up their asses and let it ferment until it eventually turns into a sweet tasting wine.
There are 80 million or so people on Farmville who believe they’re cultivating pig shit when in fact they’re part of a lead generation scam. Did I write “scam”? So sorry – I meant social networking and relationship building.
Where is the value in all this? Why is it so difficult to tell the “world” what you really think or feel about an issue?
Why do you insist on polishing turds?