A Big Welcome To ...

JOSEPH'S
FACEBOOK
REGULATIONS

 

One way or another, guaranteed to offend most anyone - friend, foe, or the impersonator.
 


Don’t invite me to a ‘Group’. If I wanted to be part of a group, I wouldn’t sit in self-imposed, solitary confinement at a blissfully aloof computer terminal, selectively communicating with people – at my occasional whim – by remote control. And while I’m at it …

If you’ve joined 214 ‘Groups’ and 541 ‘Pages’, you’re basically uninvolved – and clearly passionate … about nothing. You’re not an activist – or even someone with an interest. You’re a ‘joiner’. Which brings me to …

If you have 1,229 friends, that can only mean you have no genuine friends at all – just human collectables. Though I do congratulate you for acquiring more acquaintances than all of the people I’ve merely encountered in the entirety of my lifetime, across two continents. Well done.

Stop posing as famous people, in ‘tribute to’. No, Ann Coulter isn’t going to send you a personal note of thanks, filled with adulation for your imposter-like efforts. She’s merely adding you to her extensive and on-going, ‘Possible Psycho Potential’ list.

Stop sending me personal gifts on FaceBook. You know that I’ll only ‘re-gift’ them like so many poison-injected, Christmas season fruitcakes – sending your virtual thoughtfulness off to some other, minimal-effort, cheap bitch.

Stop asking me to get ‘FaceBook for iPhone’. After all, my most enthusiastically used App on the iPhone … is ‘End Call’.

To the members of the virtual Farmville, cultivating digital crops: You really need to think about hopping that big Binary Bus and take a field trip over to Brainville. Pick up any brain you may find there, for – by now – clearly most any brain will do. In any event – yes – this is what your life has so tragically become.

Stop asking me to 'Become a Fan Of ...'. The people who I actually admire ..... I already know.

I’m sorry, but … the only one who’s interested in the compelling, life-changing event projections of your Daily Horoscope … is you. At least remove it upon reading, or after frantically making the necessary strategic adjustments to your Daily Planner.

Stop betting that you ’Can Find 1,000,000 People Who …’. I can likely cough up a million people who attach DC electrode clamps to their nipples – and that’s in the UK, alone. So what, then, becomes your point?

Beyond this, stop making what could be a 10 second assertion with a 28 minute YouTube video link, Parts I and II.

To FaceBook: Stop running the sidebar promotional banner, ‘Someone is Looking for You!’, pictorially featuring some chick pushing her ass out at me. A) I’ve likely already done that ass back when I, myself, looked like a 17 years old – just like the vamp who’s ostensibly seeking me out, and B) If I wanted to be found, I wouldn’t have unpublished phone numbers and fake, alternative addresses with redirected mail. I’m a fucking star, after all. And even my public persona only promoted my real first name.

If New Age Shamanism is bullshit in the real and actual world, what makes you think FaceBook will validate it with a magical air of new-found legitimacy?

Black Hoochie Chicks from urban ghetto projects should stay within their rightful domain: My Space.
It was, after all, the deal you seemingly struck as a negotiated reparation alternative to 40 acres and a mule.

Additionally, Iranian students need to stay exclusively on Twitter. I mean, come on – it’s not like you’re going to actually get out more than 140 characters before being shot in the head, anyway.

Stop ‘Recommending Friends’ to me – as people I don’t even know. Let them, if anything, come to … me. Placing the words, “I beg of you” in the message field that accompanies the ‘Friend Request’ sometimes helps, but certainly offers no guarantee.

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