Archived-Articles: My Five Minutes of Fame on Facebook

There is a fascinating article from the UK about teenagers going through withdrawal when their wiring was removed for a day. Even though the kids had a landline phone and a book, they still suffered like any addict. They all had overwhelming cravings; one youngster reported itching like a crack head.

Of course, it's not just teens who are hooked these days, but people of every age. While the ever present wiring is altering brain cells, what's more disturbing is the effect on society.

Human beings are not designed to be busy all of the time. I heard a spiritual teacher once say that wisdom is found in the moment between two thoughts. It's only during those blessed moments of quiet when we hear God.

But this culture is phasing out God as surely as last year's iPad. None of this is coincidental. Keeping the masses dumbed down and addicted is all part of the Marxist playbook. A distracted populace won't notice that the country is going down the tubes.

As for me, I keep my wiring to a minimum. I do this purposely; growing up with parents who loved their liquor, I could easily get hooked like many others.

I own a Dumb phone (as opposed to a Smart one); exactly three people have the number. I have never had cable TV in my life.

Let me tell you, I was in a rotten mood the day that I had to procure one of those black converter boxes from Radio Shack when they eliminated analog. Then I had to spend several hours figuring out how to get it to work.

What complicated the set-up is that my television is a 1984 Sony Trinitron, which has its own separate black box. (Note to anyone under 40: big-ticket items like televisions were once made to last more than six months.)

When I was a progressive, cable kept me blissfully ignorant of all the things my brethren were doing to corrupt America. Shorn of cable, I have never had the pleasure of seeing Lawrence O'Donnell, Rachel Maddow or Ed Schultz on the big screen.

I didn't have high speed Internet until recently. Remember those days of modems and downloads that took forever and a day?

If I downloaded a page from Amazon (forget about video or audio, which dial-up doesn't do), I could get up and wash the dishes before the info would load. Although I didn't get much accomplished on the computer, my kitchen looked spotless!

When I finally succumbed and got DSL, I couldn't believe how fast a computer could be -- and all the junk out there. The crap on YouTube -- OMG; a real title: "Watch me lance a boil!" And then there are web sites with violent porn that would make the Marquis de Sade blush.

I have stayed far away from any social networking site for as long as I could. From what I was gathering, incessant Facebooking was turning many minds to mush (not to mention inciting riots and insurrection). But a couple of months ago, I signed on to see what all the fuss was about it.

Facebook makes it super simple to register and within minutes I was one of the gazillion members. Then it happened -- suddenly, out of nowhere, a ton of smiling pictures appeared.

There were old friends, new friends, neighbors, and people of unknown origin. How in the world did Facebook accomplish this strange feat?

Then I realized to my shock and horror that the site had accessed all of my email contacts. I was aghast; had I forfeited my right to privacy the minute I signed up?

My eyes fixed on a photo of Susan, an old, dear friend who stopped talking to me during the presidential election. We had an email fight about Obama, and I never heard from her again. And yet there was Susan smiling at me, reminding me of the destruction that election wrought.

And I saw Leslie, a close family member who, for no good reason, has recently stopped talking to my husband and me. I've tried to reason with her, but she remains in a huff. Yet Leslie was happily hugging her cat, an in-my-face reminder of something that upsets me every time I think about it (thanks, Facebook!).

It was like a walk down memory lane -- a really bad and unpleasant walk. It felt like one of those nightmares where you're in your pajamas amongst a large gathering of people. I wasn't expecting to see Susan or Leslie or any of them for that matter. And yet, through the wizardry of Facebook, there they stood.

And then I had an even more horrifying thought: not only was I getting their info, but they were getting mine. At this very moment, dozens of people were learning that I was now on Facebook.

I would soon be deluged with offers to be friended by my friends and by my friends' friends. Given that I have spent my entire life learning how to set boundaries with people, the idea of all these humans flooding my life was more than I could bear.

And that's when I did something that may never been done in the history of Facebook. I frantically searched around, and found my way to a wondrous link that read: Delete account permanently. And this is exactly what I did, five minutes after beginning. And just like magic, all of the smiling faces disappeared.

My foray into the brave new world of social networking reminds me of an episode of the TV show, Everybody Loves Raymond. I love the series because Ray's Italian family reminds me of my Jewish one. This isn't surprising because the Jews and the Italians lived next door to each other in places like the Bronx.

In the episode, Raymond's mother barges into his house, hysterical because Ray sent her a box of pears. The mother emotes, "I've never seen so many pears in my life! How many pears does a person need?"

Raymond rolls his eyes and explains, "This is a fruit of the month club. You get a box of a different fruit every month." Now the mother wails in abject horror. "What is this, a cult? I can't talk, there's too much fruit in the house!"

Well, that's how I felt about my face time on Facebook; it was all too much. Don't get me wrong; I like (some) people; I like pears. But not all the time.

I want a pear when I want a pear -- and then just a single one. On other days, I'd be happy with an apple or a peach or no fruit at all.

The same thing about people. Some days I like to connect with people; at other times, I prefer quiet and solitude.

Call me old school or old fashioned or just plain old. It doesn't matter to me. To quote the great philosopher, Popeye, "I yam what I yam."

And because of this, I will continue being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the 20^th century. And no, that isn't a typo.

Although I may be curious about the new media, I'd rather immerse myself in ancient pursuits, such as discovering the meaning of life. I want to drink in as much life as I can in this reality, not the virtual one.

While it may be interesting to find out whatever happened to so-and-so from high school math class, I mostly want to tune in to the soft whisper of God's voice. And I don't want to be busy texting when He is trying to find me.

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My Five Minutes of Fame on Facebook

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