JANE

Here’s the thing about Lizzie’s and my criticizing things on Facebook that are just plain wrong: Lizzie is far more discerning and intelligently, constructively critical about Facebook activity (and probably Facebook in general, sigh).  I, on the other hand, am so immersed/obsessed… it’s sometimes hard to see the forest for the trees.  Having said that, even I  believe there are certain things one should or should not engage in on FB, as well as certain behaviors and etiquette practices that should be given some thought…

 

Please don’t use your Status Update as a way to tell the world you have Cramps.  

And you know I am not talking cramps from running too hard or eating too much. (although I think stomach cramps and various digestive ailments should not be allowed in a Status Update either…)  I am talking about what my grandmother would have called, Female Troubles.  Seriously, no cramps, no hormonal level reports, please.  Ladies: do you really think the guys would have the following Status Update: "Joe is PSYCHED!  His doctor just prescribed Viagra… Watch out Ladies!"

 

Sending more than two requests from the same app to the same person on any given day.  

Unless the receiver has requested a little help on a specific app, please don’t bombard anyone, let alone your entire friend list, with 10 FunWall posters/videos each day.  Seriously.  And for the receiver of such beneficence, remember you can turn email notification OFF.  5 Lil Green Patch flowers to save the rain forest might seem like a good idea, and I know you want to get to the next flower, but try to spread the love a little…  On the same note, avoid sending too many requests from multiple apps to the same person in the same day.

 

Using Bad Language In Your Status Update

Okay, this is pretty funny and ironic, coming from me.  I have one of the biggest potty-mouths you have ever met!  But it doesn’t belong on a Status Update.  If I want to swear, I shall selectively do so in a conversation where I’ve deemed the audience to be okay with it.  But logging on, to find  "Mary is F**CKING PISSED AT HER F**CKING F**CK OF A F**CKING BOYFRIEND is just not nice…  (and no, she didn’t use asterisks). It’s just  bad online juju.  Is that really what you want to be throwing out there into the universe?  For one thing, not everyone appreciates swearing; and those people certainly do not want to read it on Facebook.  Think about it– if it’s your Status Update, well you aren’t giving them a choice, now are you?  And another thing, next week Mary’s status update will be all full of love and flowers and hearts about the same guy.  So all the virtual friends who sent her virtual hugs, flowers, cocktails, and of course, FunWall posters of cute kitties and babies with saccharine slogans proclaiming friendship  she must then send this to 20 of her "true"  friends,  to help her get over her anger; well, they will just feel really, really stupid.    

 

Bad Grammar and Spelling

This is just never acceptable, even on Facebook.  There are even FB groups about being smug and superior and hating bad grammar/spelling.  Doesn’t anyone know how to use commas anymore?  (This of course does not reflect upon the extremely run-on sentence in the above paragraph.  I run on and on as a matter of course.  But I digress.  Always.  

 

LIZZIE

Feeling Delightfully Old-Womanish as I Pick Up Where Jane Left Off on the Topic of Murdered Syntax

Grammar Nazis of the world, unite!  (With full sympathy for our 70’s-era peers who were stuck in open classrooms and whose grammar lessons were drowned out by the movie Our Friend Mr. Sun getting mangled by the projector in the pod next door.)  Come on–Facebook even supplies the subject of the sentence for you!  Strictly speaking, you’re already halfway to that goal of a grammar-atrocity-free sentence.  And, hello!  The "is" is optional.  ("Mike is Happy Birthday, Sarah!"  No no no, Mike  I don’t know you well, but I beg to differ.) 

How hard is it to pick a suitable verb and object, stick the comma in the right place, skip over obscene modifiers, spell your five-ten word sentence correctly, and make a possessive pronoun agree with its third-person antecedent?  Fine–go ahead and bend a rule here and there for effect.  But please don’t tell me, "Mary is siked!" (Mary, you’ve probably been saying you’re psyched about this and that since you were in the fifth grade.  Learn how to spell it, Sweet Pea.  Better yet, pick up a copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology and read the Greek myth behind the word.  The spelling will begin to make sense to you.)

Or this:   "Pete is walking my dog."  I won’t even get into the illogic of such a status update.  (Visions of Fido straining at the leash while his moronic owner pecks away at a Blackberry to let the world know what an outdoorsy guy and devoted pet owner he is.) Let’s look at what’s going on in this disturbing grammar construction.  If you are the third-person Pete (and I will assume you are, since you are the one who has editorial access to this status update), then who is the mysterious "I" who is walking your dog? 

Pete, don’t look at me with your jaw hanging open like a double-mouthed bass.  I’m asking you a serious question here. 

Is the dog-walker someone who understands how to speak the English language?  If so, then leave your keyboard and join him or her on the walk.  Once the blood is pumping nicely through your brain, explain that you are a product of the failed open classroom experiment.  Offer to exchange your disconnected bits of knowledge about Mr. Sun for some valuable instruction in pronouns and antecedents.  

As satisfying as it is to channel Mrs. Schiffman, my irascible, scowling-over-her-bifocals-on-the-chain, sixth-grade über-grammarian icon, I must move on.  There are so many more important Facebook crimes and misdemeanors to address.

(Jane: heh heh She said Edith Hamilton heh heh)

 

Worse than Being Grammar-Ignorant is Being…Coyly Mysterious, Unbearably Profound, and Cheesily Anthemic

(Yes, I know.  "Cheesily" probably isn’t a real adverb–but it does roll off the tongue in grade-A fashion, does it not?) 

So, let’s tackle the most egregious of this category first.  How does this one grab ya?  "Jen wonders how you could possibly be so gorgeous with the light in your hair this morning when you’re actually not even here."

Oh Jen.  I don’t know whether to recommend you sublimate your poetic yearnings in a Gotham Writer’s Workshop–or just urge you to get over yourself.   Come on, Jen!  That doesn’t make any sense.  It’s not deep and enigmatic.  It’s just weird and silly and phony.

And then there are the personal anthem statements, almost always written by women who are in the midst of a breakup or hashing out custody of the kids or something.  While I have oodles of sympathy for people who are going through rough patches, I protest the use of Facebook as a place to give a karaoke performance of "I Will Survive."  Here’s a beaut:  "Tina is an independent woman, who is so worth it you have no idea!” 

Can you hear the driving techno riff in the background?  Can you see Denny Terrio ready to reclaim the mic as the dancers whirl to a breathless finale?  Don’t cheapen your pain by making it tacky, Tina.  If you want some better ideas on what to do with the pain of a breakup, read Eat, Love, Pray; and take a lesson from Elizabeth Gilbert.  I guarantee you that if you deal with your loss by doing interesting, never-before-attempted things, your Facebook page will become something sparkly and compelling.  (Along with the rest of your life!)

 

Being Too Uppity to Accept a Mercy Friending

Okay, this may only have happened in my own family, but it’s too delicious not to include in this article.  Here’s the scenario.  You, in the older generation, get a friend request from one of your kids’ friends–or from a niece or nephew.  If you’re clueless, you might be tempted to think that your younger-generation friend or relative is truly pining away for your Facebook friendship.  You are wrong about that.  This genuine sweetie-pie is being kind, trying to make you feel cool–I can almost guarantee it.  Your job is to say yes and to write a gee-whiz-style "Thanks, sweetie-pie!" on his or her wall.  And then politely to ignore anything youth-culture-related that you just don’t get.

My sister Gina (a.k.a. Gargamel) shared a story with me in which our mother received one of those winsome friend requests from the best friend of one of our other sisters.  To quote the friend, "I think I’m going to make your mom’s day and surprise-friend her." 

To quote our mom a few days later:  "Hmph.  I don’t know why Marie’s friends are suddenly trying to get on my friend list.  I was never her pal, and I see no reason to accept her request."

Gina:  Wha…?  You dissed Marie’s best friend?

Mom:  Well, I clicked "Ignore" if that’s what you mean.  I don’t need to accept every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wants to get on my friend list.

Gina:  But Mom, didn’t you realize it was a Mercy Friending?

Mom:  I have no idea what you’re talking about.  So, when are you coming up for a visit? 

 

Being a Living, Walking, Breathing Cliché

• Eliza is wearing her heart on her sleeve.
  
• Jim is up early, because the early bird catches the worm!
• Bob is there is no "I" in team.
• Tom is drunk as a skunk.
• Lauren is people need people.

‘Nuff said.  Do you really want to be a living cliché?  Like one of those life-size cardboard people who doesn’t even look real when you stand next to them in a grainy digital photo?  I can’t convince myself that anyone truly wants to be cardboard.  Be real:  reach just a little bit for something original to say.  Be three-dimensional!

 

Being a Living, Walking, Breathing Well of Pure NEED 

Your friends do not appreciate your blasting out a Thursday status update that pleads with anyone who really loves you to come help you move on Saturday morning.  Don’t do this!

And while I’m at it, don’t post anything that says you sure could use a hug right about now.  Or that you’re blue today on the anniversary of the death of your childhood guinea pig.  Or that you’re hugely in need of some freelance work so you can add protein to your diet once again.  Need, need, need.  You, you, you.  Yes, we’re all selfish; and we all commit the sin of exploiting our friends now and again.  But there is something about habitual neediness published on Facebook that legitimizes that black hole of SELF. 

 

The Bottom Line:  We’re Talking About Third-Person Soul Revelation 

Make no mistake.  This strange new medium, in which one is challenged every day to think up some out-of-body third-person update about oneself, leads to some odd varieties of soul revelation.  Your friends don’t know how to tell you and don’t want to hurt your feelings, but (under the protection of pseudonyms), Jane and I are free to tell you the truth.  Time for some soul-searching: 

• Are you using your status updates to ask for help with your move this Saturday?  You’re a needy friend, and you don’t plan ahead.  Time to grow up, get a Daytimer, think about needs besides your own, and stop putting your poor friends on the spot.
• Is every other word that you write a gleeful dropping of the f-bomb?  You are unfit for polite society.  Wash your mouth out with Lifebuoy, and read Miss Manners.
• Are you cheapening your suffering by broadcasting it in ungrammatical Facebook sound bytes?  You’re avoiding the therapy that you really ought to be investing in.  (And perhaps also a $7 copy of Strunk and White.) 
  
• Are you dissing your younger-generation friends?  You’re self-deluded. 
  
• Are you trying to be Sylvia Plath?  Or perhaps Emily Dickinson as you consider your daily letter to the world (that never wrote to you)?  You really are self-deluded. 
  
• Do you frame even the grand and glorious within a perky little cliché?  You are boring.  Stop confusing "perky and upbeat" with "interesting," and aim for interesting.  Start with your prose.

 

Lizzie’s Postscript

After I read this little rant to my husband George at breakfast, he (of the calm demeanor, who never, ever rants) remarked that he’s learning to like it when I write a very curmudgeonly blog piece.  I am sweet and sunny and quite pleased with myself for the rest of the day.  Just a joy to be around.  If you’re feeling a little sorry for George as you read this, you probably should be.  Well, off I go to spend a day with my nearest and dearest–being thoroughly sweet and kind, now that I’ve poured out all of my Web 2.0 protests.  (Well, maybe not ALL.  This has been so enjoyable that I may need to plan a sequel to ease the mid-February blahs.)

 

(Jane:  Sequel? Damn, girl!  I was thinking ongoing series!  Because I want to see you use use Edith Hamilton’s Mythology and double mouthed bass in the same paragraph, again…)