TO FACEBOOK OR NOT TO FACE BOOK

Monday was my sister's birthday. As I have done every year for decades,
I phoned her. We had our usual good time together, albeit s-mile-s
apart, like a couple thousand s-mile-s apart.

Eventually, we should both know after all these decades that we are
going to get onto the subject of computers and all things computing.
Sigmund would have had a lot to say about people who keep repeating
the same mistakes hoping for a different outcome. The subject of
Facebook arose for a lot of different reasons that I won't
tire you with.

I'll tire you with the pathetic admission that despite all my ranting
and railing against this site, yours truly ended up signing onto it
for the second time around. The first time I got out of there faster
than the weather changes here.

I should have stayed in bed, which is where I was, when my sister
phoned me back after I was unable to reach her. Never you mind, there
I was on Facelessbook, connected more or less with a few people I've
known in bygone days and spent most of the night and the next day
trying to figure the madness that is Facebook. It makes my StumbleUpon
WordPress, Blogspot, Tumblr and TweetTweet look like a Montessori
school for pre-schoolers. It took about five minutes for a thousand
people to show up for my party. And Nero fiddled.

Oddly, both my sister and I have always agreed, for precisely the
same reasons, that we were not candidates for Facebook. All that I
can think of into day three are platitudes. Day three and I'm ready
to shut the whole operation down. Again! I would beg, on both knees,
that should I ever make that foray again that somebody would please
use a silver bullet and put me out my miseries.

I can see, as I always did, that there is a good use for Facebook
for some people. Just not this people. All it's done is give me a
very bad case of hives, a sudden desire for a copious quantity of
Prozac and an even greater desire to take this computer of mine
and park it on the sidewalk with a sign on it: "Take this computer
and vamoose!" Or maybe I could convince someone to take it over to
the railroad tracks and let a freight train roll over it. My that
sounds good.

I have reached terminal Blogitis and that's a fatal desease for
which there is no cure except to go into Computeritis Rehab for
a whole year. I hated Facebook the first time around. Want to
hear me scream? You don't need either a computer or a telephone
to hear me roar.

The only thing I'm enjoying doing now is right here. It's just
the right speed for me. I can ramble on about nothing and nobody
is there to talk back to me. Keeps my finger bones loose and my
mind focused, and it is sufficiently challenging to keep the
brain cells from dying faster than they need to.

So, hello Cold Press and goodbye Facebook.

Both my sister and I were correct. As far as we are concerned.

Now, how do I get back into Facebook to delete that account?

Right away. Done!