Whenever I log onto to the Facebook homepage I’m afraid to scroll down. Sure, I expect to witness all-too-personal photos that I, personally, would never reveal to the online world under any circumstances or via any medium. If I happen upon a snapshot of someone’s French poodle dressed in a Captain America outfit I sigh and move on. If I come across a picture of some fraternity dude passed out on a pool table and swathed in pornographic hieroglyphics I shrug and continue scrolling.
Now, I realize that by maintaining a Facebook profile and accepting “friend” requests without prejudice that I am susceptible to a bounty of virtual shameless whims. But for Pete’s sake, there are some oddities I shouldn’t ever have to witness on Facebook and one of them is close-up high definition photos of foot-and-mouth disease. But low and behold…YOU, sir, have shaped me into a more hard-boiled web surfer in one fell swoop. I understand that you want your photos to go viral, but this is ridiculous.
Whenever I post something—no matter how seemingly trivial it is—I think long and hard about it before I click “post.” Regardless if it’s a harmless picture of me posing with a largemouth bass or if I’m simply writing “Can’t wait to see the Dark Knight Rises” I consider any possible divisive interpretations. But you!? You obviously considered those close-up high definition photos of you foot-and-mouth disease and thought “People need to see these. The world will be a better place if I post these. I’d put these pictures on a billboard if I could but Facebook will have to suffice. Behold my awesome infection!” And another thing, aren’t you breaking some kind of reverse HIPPA law? If not, the regulations should be rewritten to protect innocent people who might inadvertently wander into your photographic foot-and-mouth disease bear trap, of sorts…WHAMMO! Foot-and-mouth disease! Once ensnared in your gross device I felt like a presenter on Nickelodeon’s Kid’s Choice Awards, having a laugh, when all of the sudden a bucket of slime showers my head—only the slime was close-up high definition photos of foot-and mouth-disease and my head was in fact my soul.
Although I am too afraid to investigate your Facebook profile further I can’t help but wonder what other dreadful cyber surprises I might unearth: Before and after photographs of the lanced boil on your tailbone? A virtual diary chronicling every ward, scab or skin tag you have ever had, complete with removal date and gardening tool used for said removal? A 3-D You Tube Video of your gall bladder surgery?
Since the advent of Facebook, I have acquired the notion that some users would leapfrog boundaries of tastefulness. Your close-up high definition photos of your foot-and mouth-disease have skyrocketed over that boundary. Whatever you do please don’t “poke” me, “tag” me or virtually touch me in any fashion. It’s not that I’m skittish about your disorder I just don’t want your misguided sense of social networking candidness to rub off.