Chris Haney and Scott Abbott invented a wonderfully pointless way to pass the time with their creation of the Trivial Pursuit board game. It was the ultimate in “low-tech” but it caught on like wildfire, making its franchise owners fabulously wealthy. Was it a harbinger of an ever-increasingly trivia-obsessed world? Hard not to think so.
It’s easy to take potshots at the mountains of totally lame minutia piled into F-Book every minute of every day; I mean, how many food craving updates, “awesome” video links and insanely up-beat self-love messages can any (sane) person really absorb? I guess, for some, the answer is ‘no limit’. Not for me, though. I’ve just signed off from the F-Book for the second, and final, time.
The first time I went into the blue-and-white orbit, I was a ‘newbie’, not knowing what to expect. I dutifully found and solicited “friends”, posted stuff I thought was interesting or thought-provoking and regularly signed in to follow what every one else was up to. It didn’t take long to realize how apropos one of Peggy Lee’s most famous recordings might have been as a theme song for us Face cadets. I beat a hasty retreat.
A good friend said I had been “expecting too much” out of the content and that I should just “relax” and go with the flow. She’s smart, so I followed her advice, with the additional limitation that I’d ‘limit’ my “friend” circle to smart people that had something to say. Of the approximately 50 people who I thought qualified, exactly 3 actually posted stuff that was worth keeping up on. But, oddly, those three were folks I was regularly in touch with quite apart from F-Book.
So, I’m now again (blessedly) F-Book free. If C. Northcote Parkinson were alive today, I’m sure he’d have some truly pithy observations about how much effluent can be moved with a device having the pumping capacity of the Book. From my experience, there seems to be no limit.