You thought Facebook was a social networking site for college kids. You thought wrong. Welcome to 2010. Here are, according to the latest Cracked.com analysis, the real top users of Facebook in 2010.
Yes, believe it or not, Facebook's fastest growing user group is middle-aged women. Horrified? Not yet you're not, because you haven't seen what your mom's doing on your turf yet.
They DIYed the grill in their backyard. Every week they start a new band depending on the buckets, sticks and hollow pieces of furniture they find at the dump. They knit their own clothes, sold them to a vintage store, and re-purchased them. They look down on you every time you turn on a light, like, "what obtrusive technology is causing this reflection on my 20-oz. Pabst Blue Ribbon can?"
And they're the most tech-savvy people on the planet. Think about it. They have more free time than anyone their age, a more accute sense of self-image, and an obsession with meticulously presenting themselves as vulnerable, lackadaisical naifs that is as ironc as... well, as anything else about them.
Their Facebook pages are like works of art. They've spent days, weeks crafting the perfect self-image in the form of their social networking presence. Like ones' own digital projection in The Matrix, the hipster page is them as they are in the Platonic ether of ideal hipster forms. While in real life they work part-time as a teaching assistant or a bagger at Whole Foods, on Facebook they make sure everyone knows what an unrepentant, charismatic, in-your-face badass you're dealing with. Just don't criticize their hats, or ask them for an example of the kind of music the band on their t-shirt plays.
One of the most popular uses of Facebook is to allow non-profits to showcase their greatest talent: Paying a young person to work for nothing for a cause that probably won't pan out. As a consequence of this high-pressure, zero-reward atmosphere, a natural progression develops.
1. Intern enters new position with enthusiasm. Intern's mother offers unproductive rephrasing of non-profit mission statement in show of solidarity.
2. First encounter with people who actually post on political pages: Spammers from other political pages. Friendly greeting is returned with anti-corporate epithet. Intern's anxiety grows as popularity of page skyrockets along with amount of swear words that appear on the page.
3. Boredom sets in, finally punctuated by some relevant content to post on the site. Disaster ensues as conspiracy theorists, whackjobs and baselessly angry middle-aged people are drawn to content as a launching point for ranting about their own personal versions of reality. Intern writes on a friend's wall, "I'm not even getting paid for this bullshit," then quickly erases it, forgetting who she friended from her job.
4. Intern finally snaps after receiving seventh e-mail from boss asking "when we're going to start seeing more content," despite apparent lack of evidence that organization actually does anything. Intern snaps, re-registers for Alaskan Independence Party, resigns stint in non-profit world. Within minutes, the cycle begins anew.
Sometime in the mid-1980s the style and design of every mid-level tech firm was set and nothing has changed since. Thirty years later, Facebook approached this type of business with the promise of four hundred million gullible teenagers ready and willing to devour their delicious precision castparts and itemized unit solutions. Unfortunately, the unanimous reply seems to have been, "itemize this unit!" along with one among several possible pantomimed crotch-grabbing motions.
To which the average member of said hip young crowd replied:
"But why aren't the logo's edges round?"
Everything is awful. Work is awful. Love life is awful. The bills are awful. The weather's awful. Not crazy about the neighbor's dog, either. And now my feelings are public, so it's time to start validating, bitches. The One-Man Pity Parade is an unstoppable juggernaut of whine; this scaly, lumbering menstruosity of a human being has had the worst day ever, every day, and now four hundred million strangers are the target of his or her emotional "me" time.
1. The profile picture is a grainy pixilated reminder of better times, when life was easy, parents took care of everything, and other such things that every single person in history previously had to deal with without the comforting ability to guilt millions of strangers into thinking, "awww." Because:
2. God, everything sucks.
3. I mean it really, really sucks.
4. Have I mentioned things suck?
5. Things suck so much, they can only be cured by flavored coffee and shitty music. Ah, life in the First World.
And remember kids, teach your friends and loved ones to adjust their freakin' privacy settings. Because nothing ruins your future in politics like a nice profile picture of you lookin' classy, a meticulously-maintained lawn of a public profile... and a stray picture of you pulling a hit off of John Bong Jovi the size of the Bhopal death cloud.