Damn You, Facebook, Anywho!

Often, I think back on the era in Sandpoint when, within a few weeks of each other, a bunch of streets went one-way rather than two-way, and they added two digits to our local telephone numbers.  

Drove everybody crazy and some folks right into each other.  

Well, fortunate for us, since that fateful time, they haven't changed those one-way streets or added any more digits to our phone numbers.  

They have added extra numbers on our zip codes, but I just flat-out refuse to play that game.  

We're 83864 here in the greater Sandpoint area, and I'm gonna leave it that way.  My mail still arrives, at least for now.  

And, according to the news, zip codes aren't gonna make a hill of beans difference when we do our customary Saturday routine and walk out to check the mailbox.  

It'll take me a while to get over that lifelong habit.  And, think of the calories I will not burn when I finally figure out that they quit delivering mail on Saturdays.

While walking to the mailbox several times yesterday, I could almost feel the earth move under my feet.  

Didn't figure out what was causing those quasi tremors until I started looking a little closer at my Facebook news.

Cuss words were flying.  Folks were beyond mad.  They were downright angry and shouting out slurs at the Facebook gods---many times in all caps.  And, when you say things in all caps, you mean BUSINESS. 

I eventually figured out that this unrepentant irreverence toward cyber deities stemmed from some major changes occurring in the way Facebook allows us to do our thinking and reading and commenting. 

This was far worse than any ol' one-way-street or extra-digit dialing plot.  This was getting to the very core of our American freedoms.  

Facebook is now deciding what items it thinks we want to read first among all the postings/comments from our FB friends.  

Facebook is also playing devious little tricks on us to formulate a bunch of lists to list on our walls. 

Do I really care to have all my information grouped into pods like "family," "Lake Pend Oreille School District," "self-employed," "University of Idaho," or "Bitter Enemies"?  

I don't think so. But Facebook does.  Fortunately, nobody's yet listed me as a "bitter enemy," which is a surprise.  I'm sure it's coming though.

Two people, with whom I have no blood connections that my mother ever told me about, have asked to list me as family members.  Facebook did have the decency in its new "review" feature to allow me to cut them out of my will.

Facebook is also deceiving us and fooling us into providing information that we never before considered sharing with the public.  

Tell me how responding to Malia Mescho listing me as a colleague with Lake Pend Oreille School District, elicited a comment on Facebook that "Marianne Love has changed her profile . . . served school district from 1969-2002."  

No mention of my friend Malia in that one. I bet Malia doesn't even know that she participated in that gimmick.

I did not have any intention of changing my profile yesterday, but Facebook thought I should.  So, I did, unwittingly.

And, speaking of wits, Facebook must have assumed that all its participants are a bunch of dimwits, who would just go along with everything doled out by the gods. 

Well, they were wrong on that one.

There may be strife in Libya and Yemen and a whole bunch of other places in the world, but nothing, I'm sure, rivals the unrest this morning in what has been our favorite arm of the social media.

I don't know if Facebook, which has been known to heavily influence protests and revolutions throughout the world, will weather the violent storm of resentment it has inflicted upon itself.

Or, are the gods just sitting back ghoulishly guffawing with satisfaction and glee at the strings they were able to pull, causing their masses to bounce around in angry disarray?

I'm actually afraid to go on Facebook to comment about this situation for fear of what the gods will do to construe my intentions. 

And, Lord knows, that may ensure a new list suddenly appearing on my wall called, "Bitter Enemies."