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.
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