They call it Facebook suicide: When users of the networking site delete their online profile because it's taken over their life. Only lonely geeks would turn leaving a Web site into something so dramatic. This is not real suicide, you tools. For proof: stick you head in an oven.
Do you know what Facebook is? Imagine the Internet as a giant phone book. Now imagine spending hours paging through the book, randomly calling up people you think you know from standing in line waiting for ointment.
It's calling up strangers and pretending they're pals. Facebook is not even a real book with real faces in it — like the one I made prior to my arrest.
For me, there's nothing worse than receiving a friend request. Look, there's a reason why I've avoided you since high school, college or the psychiatric hospital where I was treated briefly in the 1980s. I don't like you.
I suppose Facebook is ideal for stinky shut-ins. Keep them off the street for good, I say. But realize that people on Facebook aren't friends: They do not help you move furniture and that's the single criteria that defines friendship.
Facebook friends create false esteem: Much like playing air guitar in front of a mirror instead of a band. In the end, you just have to grow up and talk to a real girl.
Or in my case, an alpaca.
And that's my gut feeling.