Facebook: The Slum Lords of Social Media
At some point in our lives, we’ve all lived in a shit hole. Whether in the projects of Boise or the academic ghettos of off campus housing, they all have one thing in common: the people who own it don’t give a shit if the toilets flush in reverse or a family of possums set up shop in your underwear drawer. If you don’t like it you can leave.
1. Dicking with your profile settings:
This has happened to thousands of faithful users. One day, everything’s hunky dory. You just finished joining every Jonas Brothers fan page that exists. You feel fulfilled. After changing your status message for the 50th time that day (everyone needs to know when you poop) you sign off, secure in the knowledge that your profile is worthy of some sort of Internet award. Something useful, not like that Pulitzer Prize crap. Maybe a lifetime supply of Irish whiskey, Trojans, and douche. I’m spit balling here.
Who are you kidding? You can’t wait until morning to take another spin on Facebook. You’re addicted, just like the rest of us. Go ahead. You know you want to. But, something is awry. Why the hell is only half my profile information showing? Why aren’t the settings registering? Shit, none of the privacy settings I chose are working. No, asshole, I don’t want my pic to be seen by people in federal prison. NO, do NOT give my address out to those serial rapists! For the last fucking time, STOP showing OJ Simpson as my grandfather! Who’s fucking with me?
You’ve become the latest victim of something I like to call, “The Facebook-fuckedya.” Sometimes it happens randomly. Other times it seems like you’re the victim of a vendetta. All of the time, it sucks a mountain goat’s ass. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s Russian roulette. Sometimes the chamber has the bullet. Sometimes the revolver just goes “click.” Once the Facebook fuckedya lands on you, it’s hard as hell to escape it. It’s a free social site. What the fuck do they care? You’re not paying them. Maybe your profile was hacked. Maybe the server is fucked. Maybe Facebook hates your kind.
2. Dicking with your pictures:
What’s the equivalent of being robbed on Facebook? Having your pics swiped. No, no one hacked the system and stole your pics so he can print and show them off at the annual “Guess the bodily fluid stain” con. Facebook just decided to fuck with you.
Just one night they were gone. Again, no rhyme or reason. It lands on you like a glob of seagull shit. Go ahead, check. It won’t do any good. Facebook has done its job well. Does this sound familiar?
Why can’t I get into my photos? Horse shit! I just uploaded 5000 of my friend streaking through Mass after he got trashed on Listerine! What? “You do not have any photo albums.” WTF? The hell I don’t, mother fucker!
Or, better yet:
3. Dicking with your access:
The aforementioned issues are bad enough. At least, you could gain access to the system to find out there was a problem. You can’t even get in now. Correct screen name? Check. Correct password? Check. OK, I’ll just reset the password, just in case. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Holy tap dancing Irish Jesus, what the fuck is taking Facebook so long to email me that confirmation code? Finally! OK, new password. SHIT! It’s still cock blocking me.
What the fuck does this even mean?
That’s the pot calling the kettle black, you sanctimonious assholes!
Fine. Facebook is riddled with problems in the same way our national warning system it riddled with complete and utter ass pudding. We have a voice! We will be heard! Contact the administrators and give them an earful of your bitching.
Fucktastic. It’s a Facebook users’ blog chocked full of thousands of other confused and frustrated sons-a-bitches looking for a glimmer of hope. The blog is more of a sounding board about how much Facebook sucks leprechaun nuts than an actual helpful resource. Most of it of the posts are peppered with spelling errors that could technically put you in that windowless “special” class in junior high. Shit, shit, shit shit shit!
Me no git whi my profil cant be showed good.
The only way to contact Facebook is to stumble upon the “Hacked Profile” link. You saw it before, but you figured since your profile wasn’t technically hacked, you had no business using it. Well, 45 minutes have passed and you’re fuming with pipe bomb building rage! Fuck it! Fill the bastard out!
Working on getting this fixed as soon as you can?
When the fuck will that be?
“Although we’re unable to reply to every bug report at this time, we may contact you for more details about the issue as we investigate the report. Thank you for taking the time to improve the site.”
Translation: Fuck you.
Perhaps, one of the best examples of Facebook just not giving an elephant’s shit comes from their own stock response. The same generic, automated script is posted to issues on the user blogs that are serious and can potentially deal the Dead Man’s hand to your account and sanity.
“We are aware of the problem that you described and apologize for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, we do not have a specific date for when this issue will be resolved but hope to fix it as soon as possible. We appreciate your patience.”
Thanks for contacting Facebook,
User Operations Facebook
This is one of many automatic “piss off” responses spat out at the masses. This particular one was posted in October of 2007. The bug was posted in March of that year. The fucking problem still runs rampant all over Facebook over TWO YEARS LATER. Thanks for nothing Catriona, if that is your realy name.
I deactivated my account and started over again. Sure, that was a complete pain in the ass and I lost a couple of years worth of electronic memories. Hindsight tells me that Facebook isn’t a necessary part of life. Mankind existed before it, right? In theory, we don’t need social media to function. Don’t you remember what I said in the beginning of this article? Facebook is like heroin. I may not need it, but I fucking NEED IT!