OPEN LETTERS
An Open Letter to Facebook
Enough already.
Dear Facebook,
Fuck off.
I could end this here and we could go our separate ways, but in the interest of us both growing, I’ll give you some context.
Someone I am friends with on Facebook said goodbye to their pet. I sent a thoughtful response to which they sent a thoughtful response, and so on.
The next day another pet died. Same same. Sad face emojis all around.
Huh. Another pet crossed the rainbow bridge. Fuck a duck. No, that’s not how they died and it wasn’t even a duck. It’s how I felt. I sent a message to the grieving pet mum about it being a rough week for fur babies and shared a thoughtful link and more crying emojis.
Then I contacted you.
Facebook help, I’m asking for help. (Haha. See what I did there?) I’m not sure what you can do, but since you are algorithm geniuses, certainly you can put in a fix for me. No more sad stuff please. I’ve had enough. You get me. Yours faithfully, Kristine
It didn’t end there.
Cancer. Yup. Lots of it. Apparently, it started in pets and migrated to owners. I saw shaved heads, people hooked to chemo, heartfelt posts on how they were thinking positively and grateful for the support of the community.
What did you want me to do here exactly, Facebook? Was I to ignore this and instead search for under-eye cream that would disguise the tears you have caused. I reached out again.
Please Facebook, can you reset my algorithm to zero? Too much death. I can’t see another dead thing. Stay safe, Kristine
People started dying. Not my friends, thankfully. But my friend’s parents, siblings, bosses, and long-lost cousins. Everyone on Facebook was dying. More heartfelt condolences and a lot of broken heart emojis.
Do you know what I didn’t see during this time? Babies. Puppies. Cats falling off shelves. Startled squirrels. Nothing that I would find life-affirming.
So I contacted you, again.
Facebook. I would like to better understand how my behavior affects the content I see. Because I see unalive people, do I see more unalive people? How do I stop you from showing me unalive people? Please, just stop showing me unalive people! I can’t handle any more unalive people. Alive and well, Kristine
The ‘Book’ upped their game.
Ads for funeral planning services, flower delivery, even a pet cemetery.
Please, please, please. Reset my algorithm. I promise you can start collecting info on me and serve me all the me-specific ads once I ditch the dead people. I’ll even let you try to sell me that snot extractor again. The ad was gross, but I’ll watch it faithfully all the way through if you just stop with the death. Kristine
This was war.
Messenger got in the game with message requests.
“Do you have a loved one that needs afterlife care?”
No. Delete.
“We are here for all your bereavement requirements.”
No. Delete.
FB, I get that my history might call me a fatalist and I deserve what I got. But you have turned me into a heartless bitch. I can’t respond to people’s suffering with crying or broken heart emojis. I can’t linger, read, click, or comment. I can only scroll past in a hurry and hope that you didn’t see me watching. I won’t even talk about death, dying, illness, or injury around my devices. I stop all Disney movies before we get to the end. I’ve had to create a quiet room in our garage. No electronics allowed. I have stocked it with plenty of pens and paper to communicate without words in case someone says dead, dying, cancer, disease, or — god forbid — castration. Now can I see bloopers? Bunnies? Bungled Burglaries? Anything starting with a B that doesn’t die? Serve me fucking banjo music. Banjo banjo banjo banjo banjo. How do you like that now? K
Dead banjo. Needs restringing, but they don’t have the money, so they have lost their livelihood, and their wife left with the kids.
Fuck Facebook!
You win, Facebook. Kids doing card tricks. I’m outta here. Baby seals, talking dogs. I am dead to you. Dancing toddlers. Let’s see how you like it.
A former FB (exercise ball fails) user,
Buh bye,
Kristine (Jumping Lizards, Practical Jokes with Whip Cream)