In all it’s glorious forms the Internet has devolved into people who don’t want to know they are alive. Companies now pretending that character is of the new
God-skill, unobtanium, Six Sigma, deciding factor in hiring, have warned that they scrutinize potential candidates social media networks for signs of irregularities. So if you drink, smoke, use bad language, wear mismatching socks or have halitosis – no job for you.
Because as we all know people in corporate positions are nothing but morally rich and socially responsible.
Recently I saw a disclaimer on a friend’s Facebook (paraphrasing) – “Please do not post any bad comments, swearing or any sexually-related anecdotes. No photos or memes related to anything inappropriate.” It went on for six or seven additional sentences. Unable to resist I commented, “Please do not post any drug references or any personal anecdotes relating to my personal past.” I was contacted a few minutes later via IM that they didn’t like my comment, despite it’s obvious re-enforcement of the sentiment. They asked that I delete it. I did. I also unfriended them after nineteen years of knowing them and eighteen years of not talking to them. Shortly after I deleted my Facebook page.
BTW NOT being on Facebook can make employers “suspicious” of you.
While the notion that our Puritanical beginnings have been left on the decks of the Mayflower may seem vivid as we Twitter, I Googled the following “the cost of sending naked pictures“. Trying to find some real impact to the sending, receiving and creating naked pictures of my body. I found lots of moral arguments (again), amidst demotions and regrets. In the name of appearance, action was once again taken to show that the police, a judge, some ex- somewhere are truly moral and just people. Yet the object in that last sentence is missed completely – people. People are, as Bill Hicks put it, “a virus with shoes”.
Allow me to tell you what I am really thinking. American is a nation of emotionally immature people that, when they see a naked body, are unable to deal with their reaction. It doesn’t happen in Europe, at pagan gatherings, or when you arrive in the world because IT’S NO BIG FUCKING DEAL.
“But Jim, your Facebook page is still up.” Why, yes dear reader, it’s still up because I was talking about my alter ego.” I am not real. I am fake. Making a quiet migration from persona to persona to avoid any real responsibility or repercussion of my true, unpopular thoughts. Once created and revealed, then judged, I slither away to some other incarnation. This is done because I don’t want to hear it, I just want to say it. My thoughts collude with observation and conclude that this is the predominant outlook. Expressing uncommon sexual tastes, unpopular stances and risque color palettes is your rights as an American. Unfortunately feedback, dialog and response are the natural order. While an IP address does not a person make, I sit here spouting what little I can.
Now It’s off to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Drinking stout at my computer, listening to irish music. The way it was intended.