Chris Jepson: A Facebook divorce

Oh, Lordy! She’s talking about me, as someone who receives pictures of adorable little chickies wearing knitted hats. I’ve told my daughter — STOP IT! — to not post such pictures but, damn, who can resist? Yes, yes, I’m on Facebook and my “Friends” post “chickie” pictures and I’m guilty . . . of looking.

I was late in creating a Facebook page. I thought it a bit goofy, and still do actually. In case you’ve just fallen off the turnip truck, Facebook is a for-profit website that hosts you and your “Friends” online. There are a billion plus users of Facebook worldwide. Facebook is figuring out ways to sell you stuff and market your “interests.” Essentially, Facebook users are just a way for capitalists to make a buck-off.

Facebook is used a myriad of different ways. Some folks, realtors, for example, use it to sell their services or advertise available property. Corporations have Facebook pages. So, too, individuals. A “gripe” I have about Facebook is its designation of the word “Friend.” Anyone you accept as a “Friend” has access to your Facebook page and you to theirs. I am somewhat of a literalist when using the word “Friend.”

I have 65 Facebook “Friends,” 27 are relatives, nine are from my hometown (went to public school with) plus 29 more are, to varying degrees longtime and short-time friends. I will not “Friend” anyone I do not personally know. I am not so much interested in being “Friended” by someone who has 678 Facebook “Friends.” But that’s just me.

If, on a regular basis, you sit for any length of time before a computer terminal (writing, research, work, etc.), it is easy to periodically take a break, pop a screen and see what’s doing on Facebook. Most of my “Friends” are liberal, or with a pronounced libertarian streak. I have the full range of “Friends.” Some post food recipes (with pictures), some talk about their favorite sports teams, others their children and grandchildren. My son and daughter like pictures (images/film) of the unique and novel. One “Friend” posts pictures of her dachshund; it’s obvious she loves her pupster.

I peruse commentary on social issues, politics and governance. Facebook, like most social media, connects the like-minded. This is good and bad, but that is grist for another column. I like getting updates from LA Lee on his love, where he is skiing, and his big doings on the West Coast. I relish the raging Philadelphia outbursts from MissAyeshaB on the gross incompetence of chefs she knows. I enjoy the updates about my hometown of Sioux City. I like pictures of friends and family toasting life. Facebook is (for me) a small part of just that, enjoying life. I invest, maybe, 20 minutes a day actually online, posting or digesting Facebook updates.

Inane? Sure. A lot of it is. I’m just as guilty as the next Facebook user (more so perhaps) of posting the frivolous. It makes me laugh. So I was amused when a longtime old friend (We’ve known each other since we were 6) posted, “I don’t want to see chickens with knitted hats or cute puppies. I don’t want to buy 300-count sheets. I don’t care if the highway is blocked or if you had dinner with someone or your kid played soccer today … I hate Facebook. I hate the way it sucks time for dumb stuff. So I have left.”

All true friend … yet. Expect a call.