ANOTHER DEAD FRIEND.
Another Facebook page that’s still active.
I read somewhere that the deceased’s family has to prove to Facebook that a death has actually occurred before the user’s page is deleted.
This involves submitting to Zuckerberg proof of authority, like having the dead person’s birth certificate, their last will and testament, and/or an estate letter.
After that stuff is turned over they also need to provide proof that the loved one has indeed died and so an obituary or memorial card needs to be submitted.
You can see why so many dead people’s FB pages remain ‘active’ on the network. Fuck, who wants to deal with (or have time) for all of the above nonsense?
And Jesus knows FB wants to keep their ‘user’ numbers high to continue to court and fleece advertisers.
The thing about social media platforms is that once you enter their Chinese finger trap you’re counted as a ‘forever’.
Worse, you are intermixed with millions upon millions of fraudulent accounts and bots, a mish-mash of bytes that obliterates identity.
Marshall McLuhan prophesized this 50 years ago when he said:
“The more the data banks record about each one of us, the less we exist.”
If advertisers knew the genuine number of ‘living’ FB users, versus the inflated fraud-numbers FB touts, they’d be fleeing in even greater numbers than they are now.
Anyway, I think about 7 friends have died since I signed up for Facebook 15 years ago. And it’s super weird—and now doubly voyeuristic—to go and visit the dead person’s page when curiosity overcomes me.
And it does. I go in there and trawl, half-covering my eyes and half-WTF-ing? It's kind of awful.
Friends and family continue to scrawl comments—especially around holidays and anniversaries—as if the dead person can ‘read’ them.
Nothing says unhinged from reality like: “Love you, babe, I know your [sic] reading this somewhere. Here’s a picture of Tammy’s new baby.”
But then how ‘real’ is any of the interaction on FB that occurs in the here and now with allegedly ‘alive’ people?
Lately, when I go into the network to post a link over to my Substack I recoil from the heightened level of desperation that’s flooding the network. The entire country seems to be having a psychotic break.
I mean, I’m seeing more and more Queen for a Day-like posts from ‘users’.
Publicly confessed details about domestic abuse, loneliness, suicidal obsession, helplessness, joblessness, lovelessness.
The posts keep piling up, one atop the other.
For a kicker, often right below the post is a picture of someone’s wedding in Paris.
Or worse, a bunch of rogue chickens.
Sometime’s I talk to the tragic posts and say something like, “Your [sic] interacting within the very medium that’s annihilating your soul.”
I then imagine the person dead and the sort of comments people will leave on their ‘wall’.
What I hate most about obituaries is that they are never honest. Everyone eulogized was, “a force of nature,” and a saint and lived a life that brought constant joy to others.
When I die, I want the actual gigabytes of porn I streamed detailed to the last byte.
The worst, though, is when the obituary never tells me what the person died of, which usually means they killed themselves. Which, nowadays, means they remained on Facebook too long.
It’s all pitiful and, as I said earlier—awful.
I’m imagining Hamlet at the grave, and he’s turning the skull ‘round and ‘round, and there’s a Facebook ‘LIKE’ thumb etched into the bone-dome-top.
And for a soundtrack, there’s that bit from Joni Mitchell's song Hejira:
Well I looked at the granite markers
Those tributes to finality, to eternity
And then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for my immortality
I guess that’s the big unconscious draw to leaving trails on FB—be ye alive or dead—‘chicken scratching’ for immortality.
And by the way, those chickens pictured above were never claimed. Goddess only knows where they’re roosting now.
Love,
Opening collage by FW © 2022
PS: As promised, more reasons to flee from Meta and its encroaching metaverse. In his excellent newsletter post this morning, activist Cory Doctorow details how:
Disinformation is extremely profitable for FB.
So profitable that FB goes out of its way to sabotage any effort to prove how profitable it is.
Oh, and how the FB platform was being used to organize genocidal pogroms.
I just downloaded my photos (because photos!) and am scheduled to have the damn thing deleted in 30 days. Or so they say.
I have been "clean" of FB for (I think) two years, or maybe one, I'm not even sure. I didn't cancel my account, but I made a decision not to use it and it has been the most positively reinforcing health decision I think I've ever made. My own cells are knitting themselves back into a coherent whole. I read long-form journalism. I complete thoughts. I miss nothing, and — despite my biggest worries — feel as up-to-date about what's going on in the world as I did when I was on there.
I toyed with the idea of running my political campaign entirely off of social media, just to see if it could be done and make a point about how destructive it is. But I succumbed to the pressure of my advisors and manager, who thought it couldn't or shouldn't be done. I regret that.
We really need a critical mass of ppl to really turn their backs on it. Quietly, without fanfare, no revolution, no screaming. Just literally turn around. Maybe a middle finger, that's it. What a redemption that would be.