Fuck Facebook!


A well-meaning friend of mine, whom I love dearly, is always telling me my life isn’t fully realized because I don’t have a Facebook page. OK, so what would I get with such a glorious thing? “You can promote your blog,” she always assures me. Oh, yeah? But my column promotes my blog and my blog promotes my column. How much more promotion do I need? “People can contact you,” she adds soothingly. Oh, yeah? Well, I already put my email address at the end of my column and I’m also reachable by phone, fax, text, blog comments, and messenger pigeon. How hard is it to reach me? “But you can make all new friends,” she goes on. Oh, yeah? Well, I already know every single person in New York and even a few in Jersey and one in Pennsylvania. And I actually know them in person, not just by typed messages. “But people like Roseanne could leave you a message,” she swears. Oh, yeah? Well, I already know Roseanne! We’ve talked on the phone several times, she always says hello when I see her, and I know exactly how to reach her when I need to. And it’s the REAL Roseanne, not someone who says they’re her. “But you can exchange messages with Lizz Winstead too,” she sputters. Oh, yeah? Well, I know Lizz too! Ages ago, she put me in one of her TV specials and then I was on her radio show several times and recently I interviewed her for my column. We totally know how to contact each other. “But…but..” Yeah, butt OUT! I need a website that allows me to have FEWER friends!