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Your Kid Killed Facebook

The day is speeding along the distant, dusty horizon, like some crazy super car tearing across the salt flats of the horizon of my mind.

What will I do?

What will I say?

I’ll probably just stand there, my arms sagging at my sides, a helpless/flabby man of insignificance in the jet engine gales of my young daughter’s voice.

“Daddy?” she’ll say, all soft and sweet.

“Yeah, kiddo?” I’ll respond.

“Can I join Facebook?”

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My world will collapse around me, massive cliff walls of my existence will crumble down onto my spinning head and, chances are pretty good, I’d say, that I will end up puking on my sad 40-something Vans.

What is it about young kids being on Facebook that skeeves me out so much?

I’m no perfect parent, that’s for damn sure, but when it comes to my three kids, even though they are still too young to even know about social media at all, I can pretty much say with certainty that when the day does come, I’d honestly rather find out that my elementary schooler is hanging out with her friends smoking candy cigarettes back behind the 7-11 dumpster than flitting around somewhere out in cyberspace.

And okay, maybe that’s ridiculously old-fashion of me.

I know it is.

I can’t help it, though.

Seems to me, there are times when being progressive and forward thinking is the only way to go in this life. In all honesty, I mostly lean that way in my own world, with a heavy slant. And yet, there are some times when I want to run back into the wide open arms of tradition, of the ancient ways of growing up back in 1983 or whatever.

Facebook is one of those times.

I can’t describe the awful feeling I get whenever I get a "friend request" from some 9-year-old. Maybe that’s not fair, but who said Facebook is fair? Do you know the feeling? You probably do. It’s creepy, isn’t it. It’s creepy and it’s whack and it’s not freaking fair.

I am sorry to say that after all these years, I still haven’t found my Facebook groove.

Now, you might say: “Hey! It’s Facebook, for God’s sakes! There’s nothing fair about it. Or decent or fun either, when you get right down to it!” And you would be right…to a degree. But the whole 'kids reading my wall’ thing does my head in. It just does.

Look, it might be some distant nephew or cousin or some kid down the road, but no matter who comes looking for me in the dark, nasty alleys of Facebook, if you aren’t old enough to drink a rippling pint glass of Hot Pepper Schnapps while smoking a fat cigar and hanging out of the 34th floor window of a Vegas hotel room that you rented in your own damn name, then it rattles me to my core.

And no, it isn’t for some superhero reason I feel this way, either. It isn’t at all because I am worried that the child is going to end up being lured into some kind of a lurid/detestable conversation with some Internet super creep or anything like that, although that does stand as another justified reason for your kid to be Facebook-free.

When I get these requests from young people what really agitates the hell out of me for a day or two after I "accept" their "request" (even though, in real life, we have so terribly little in common), is that I have to log in to my precious Facebook all flustered and worried about whether I can use the salty sailor language that I tend to use whenever I post anything.

I am sorry to say that after all these years, I still haven’t found my Facebook groove. I really haven’t. My personal wall is a loser’s mishmash of pictures of my kids and feeble, unheralded attempts at wit, all stirred into a weird gloop of common unsexiness.

But, whatever! I mean, at least before the tweens came along I could curse up in there, you know? That was something I actually enjoyed! Hell, for once in my life I felt kind of like I was GOOD at something. I could string a bunch of horrible, pirate oaths together and set them loose to float out into the strange, heavy ether of cyberspace and not have to worry about it at all.

It was like floating a turd out the spaceship window.

Who cares?

Who cares where it ends up?

Not anymore, though. Those days are over. The old school days are over. The Facebook Summer of Love, of free thinking and free range ideas, the days of wandering down the un-policed summertime halls without ever worrying about offending a child, they are OVER, people.

And if you want to know who to blame (because, let’s face it, we live in blaming times) you can thank all of these "progressive" moms and dads who really see it as educational and beneficial for their sweet/innocent geniuses to be hanging out in, what pretty much amounts to, some of the shadiest corners of this entire Godforsaken galaxy.

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Of course, there is one thing you could do. You could totally just go ahead and ignore the kid’s friend requests, you know?

But then you run the risk of offending their parents, which… c’mon…you know that is going to happen, don’t you?

So, see?

You cannot win.

Facebook is dead.


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