Myspace and Twitter are sitting at the bar, having a few beers and shooting the shit. “So, have you seen Facebook lately?” asks MySpace, a smug smile creeping across his face. “No,” replies Twitter, “why, what’s wrong with him?” “He’s a mess, man” says MySpace, smile broadening. “He’s had one update too many”.
The bar goes silent as Facebook enters, already drunk and stumbling towards an empty seat in the corner. “What?!” he screams, as the bars patrons divert their eyes away from him, “d’you not wanna look at me anymore?! Am I too complicated for you now, is that it?!” MySpace begins to snicker as Twitter looks on pitifully. “Oh, look at you two, sat over there all high and mighty. Like neither of you have ever done anything wrong! MySpace; how’s Tom?” MySpace gulps audibly. “Oh, that’s right, he’s with ME now. And guess what? He’s still sitting in front of that whiteboard, wearing that white t-shirt. Yeah, that’s right; he didn’t even have enough respect for you to change his clothes in his default picture.”
Facebook beckons the waitress, Bebo, to pour him a drink. “And Twitter!” he continues, “I would explain what a pretentious arsehole you are, but unfortunately it would take way more than 140 characters!” “I think you’ve had too much to drink, sir” says Bebo, attempting to take his Long Island Ice Tea away from him. “I’m sorry, but do you have permission to do that?!” enquires an irate Facebook, “I didn’t see you enter a captcha! You could be an imposter Bebo for all I know! Not that anyone would want to be an imposter of you, you worn-out old harlot.” “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave” Bebo sternly replies, and so Facebook is thrust out of the bar by a pair of burly security guards, left to wander the streets slurring tales of Jesse Eisenberg and Farmville.
If you have visited Facebook recently, you’ll have noticed that it has changed. Its homepage is no longer the sleek minimalist design that it once was, instead cluttered with minute details of the smallest interactions between your friends; “Joe Average is at Denny’s with John Smith and April Showers” shouts your news feed, “I do not care” you shout back. Some might say that this is the future of social networking, but I’d say that these are the kinds of people who perversely enjoy knowing the exact locations of acquaintances at all times, and therefore all of their opinions should be completely ignored.
If you have “entered the cheat code” and “unlocked” the new Facebook profile, you will have also noticed that too has completely changed. Gone are the wall posts and photo album thumbnails, and in their place is a huge timeline that, along with providing a creepy clusterf*ck of information about you to the world, will also provide future historians’ with possibly the easiest paycheck they will ever receive. How much easier would your history lessons have been if you could’ve just clicked onto the profile of a 14th century Englishman and checked to see if he’d added “Black Plague” to his life events?
When Facebook started implementing the changes my news feed read like the Salem witch trials; “wtf is rong with chat???” a girl asked, “why r photos so big?!?!” retorted a guy, “WHAT IS GOING ON, AM I TRAPPED INSIDE A SURREALIST NIGHTMARE?!” I typed, becoming a little too swept up in the hysteria. Then we all picked up our flaming torches and pitchforks and marched our way to Zuckerberg’s abode, clutching his sweaty hoody as a trophy after ruthlessly executing him for the crime of Unexpected Originality.
Perhaps one day we shall uncover the secrets of this Pandora’s Box that Zuckerberg has laid before us, but until then we’ll just have to spend our spare time staring bleakly at our horrendously pixelated cover photo’s, impatiently awaiting an update on Joe Average’s current location. Or, I dunno, we could join Google+ or something.