Here, encased in an amber of shame, are the 102 people I blocked in my time on Facebook.
Thomas Croom Ed Smythe Debbie Mealus Robin Springer Deena Jones Garry Batto William Hayden
Jason Berks Pat Newman Jay A Smith Dalton Dollarhide T.j. Newsom Jean Ashley Crawford J.D. Kristoff Alex Kolkena Rose Craig Fran Anne Greg Johnson Robert Hill Joe Bene Diana Frankfurter Mike Boz Scott Kuli Gary Howard Georgiano King Debbie Josi Anne Johnson Dawn Ganey Matt Biddington James Bugsy Balderrama Barry Kidd Arika Lauren Michael Sherbert Bill Nichols Rick Pfeifer Jonathan Hilton Thomas Oliver Kopian Carolina Corpus Richard Harkins Mark J. Shipley Martin Jacobs Joe Soukup Joe Hudson Vicki Coke Randy Berkland Roberta Martinez Michael Brooks Tracy Seifert Yanni Kratsas Regina Daniel Lisa Ness Kevin Thiem Brett Knower Caden Barber Mike Yates
Norman Duffell Bob Le Bras William J R Hall Randy Brown Tracie Rsu Wayne Kemper Marilu Winn Clifton
Dave Almquist Jeremy Hintz Kathy Lorenzo Steven Pope Rick Ogilvie Sanford Schwartz Cletus Rambuncticus Robert Weigel Sarah Dewberry Robinson Robert E L Bowman Kent Goodwin James Lindsey Daniel Fyffe Margo Carmichael Tom Abell Tonya Olson Otterness Lonnie Mark Hall Matthew Borman Michael Pendergast Jr. Alexandra William
Dennis Irwin Rusty Harris Levi Calvert Eric Mocker George Miller Dave Walker Michael Oluwadarasimi
James Murphy Brian Hobbs Lourdes Hernandez Lynn Tramel Tom Hoover Cee J Hazen Ibrahim Quyum Mickey Warhola Ann Pollak Beth Brockhoff Shelia G Matheny Jack Milton Robbie Jax William Hayden Tyler Hayes Riechman Hubert Woodard Shawn McKellop Daniel Ros Peggy Maynard Mark Wilson J.D. Kristoff
A few are cherished grudges that I take down off the shelf and polish like old bowling trophies. Most though, are random persons or not persons at all, but programs that emulate people. Horrible people. A few are relatives of yours, not mine. What they all share in common with only one exception, is that without Facebook, I would never have encountered them.
Sure you can say I am thin-skinned, unwilling to hear opinions different than my own. You would be right about that. I do not want to encounter, as William Butler Yeats said,
…somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I do not recall signing up to engage in futile slogan-slinging with the impacted tarry stool of the internet, yet they seem to be everywhere, or I am unable to protect my borders enough to only have my personal photographs and pithy comments exploited. The hard truth that I am ashamed to admit, but must own to be free, is I’ve hardly read a book or written a thought of my own since I discovered this dark mirror that only tells me I’m pretty no matter my wart-riddled, ruddy complexion.
For all that it takes away, it has also given me so much. Without it I would not be reunited with my first and always love, Melissa. For that alone, I can agree to disagree with Mr. Zuckerburg,and not go away mad, but instead just go away maybe for a while, or maybe forever.
For now though, in this final week of engagement, this data cow is going to kick down the fence and free the moron brigade. That’s right. I am unblocking them one and all, and I trust they will each meet a deserving fate, as will I.