The Book of Face

So, after much bitching and whining from my friends and family, I decided to re-instate my facebook account. Initially I was most reticent to do this as I felt my initial point, whatever that was, was being proven and being proven well. I will not lie my friends, I took untold pleasure from saying to people "Sorry, luv, I'm not on facebook.....now smell this hanky"

After getting my account back, at first things proceeded much the same as they did before. I barely even checked my account, it was almost as if I didn't even have an account, certainly not one that I cared about. In fact, the only time I would ever even log in would be if I received an email from someone. The battle for my collected conscience, it seemed, had been won.

That was then. This is now.

Now, about a month later, I find myself - twitching and crouching like Gollum in his cave - almost involuntarily logging in to the site. Every time I've got a free few seconds, some demon takes possession of my being and forces my reluctant fingers to type my username and password, completely against my will. Every logical part of my brain knows there is nothing to be found there. No nourishment whatsoever. None. Not spiritually, emotionally, physically (well....let's not go that far), nothing. However I can do absolutely nothing about it. It's got me and I don't know what to do but delete my account and rid myself of this terrible curse once and for all.

I mean, and this is just one example, I logged in this morning to find at least 53 updates talking about snow. Fucking SNOW! I can feel myself becoming dumber by the second. I'm tempted to start using heroin to compensate. Not only would facebook become suddenly far less important, but there would also be all manor of medical help available should I ever wish to quit. Mark my words, people, for I am certain, many many years from now, it will be revealed that this whole thing was created by government mind control experts to keep the masses docile, apathetic and thus less likely to revolt. The enemy has many spies...


JB.


P.S - I'm not sure, but I think it's snowing in England.