How to Use Facebook

Virtual networking programs like Facebook and Myspace have swept America by connecting people who should never have been allowed to connect in any meaningful way. Frankly, most Facebook and Myspace users should never have been let out of the tiny cocoon-like enclaves they inhabit, shunning the rest of the world like timid butterflies and coming out only for an anime-catgirl shaped lightbulb or copious amounts of Mountain Dew, but that is not my point. My point is that these systems are taking America by storm, by letting people from seperate cities, countries, or even planets communicate with one another in a way that could almost be mistaken for human interaction, such as via poking one another electronically. Of course, allowing unwanted human interaction is only one of many services Myspace and Facebook provide. There are infinite tasks you can perform effortlessly with the touch of a button on both systems, including:

  • Instant messaging
  • Being able to post nude photographs of yourself for all your friends to see (a feature only available on Myspace to my knowledge, unfortunately)
  • Posting poorly-drawn furry pornography that nobody wants to see
  • Having a special “birthday reminder” tool, so that you don’t forget your friends’ birthdays and end up having a birthday cake slammed into your CD-ROM drive.

Yet many people don’t fully understand how to use these features. Only those that spend their every waking hour poring endlessly over a sterile notebook or desktop computer screen, or those who are liberal arts or physical education majors, truly understand the power one can acquire through a system like Myspace or Facebook. Thankfully for you, I’m here to help. I’m a veteran of Myspace and Facebook, having more than fifty friends per system in spite of being a common variant of Mexican gray wolf, and I know the Internet like the back of my hand, because I have no life and no semblance of social relationships.

Without further ado:

1. When on Facebook, make sure to name all of your picture folders with names like “Summer of Madness”. That way, everybody will know that your summer was in fact PURE AWESOME MADNESS, in that you did that one thing where you had fun coming up with unique uses for one of your friends’ bras (hopefully a female friend) and were not beaten to death by a security guard after getting drunk and attempting to mate with the ostrich statues at the miniature golf course.

2. Whereas Myspace will never actually update any of its aging design, Facebook will redesign everything every other week. If you are on Facebook, rest assured that you will never fully understand any of the features that are at your disposal, because you will be spending at least 50% of your time attempting to find where Facebook has decided to put all the toolbars and images this week:

3. Also, on Facebook you will never be able to customize the look of your page. If you get a WordPress blog you can give it one of 73 different styles, of which I have used one, “Digg 3-Column”, for quite awhile now. On Myspace you can use whatever the hell style you want, of which most choose styles such as the ever-popular “Retarded 16-year-old Girl” style, or “Latently Homosexual 18-year-old Emo Raver Boi” style.

On Facebook, though, there is no “style.” You are given the style Facebook has, known as the “Blank white page with a blue bar on top and random shit everywhere” style. This style is inherently unpopular. Of the several billion friend updates I have on Facebook, currently 119% involve somebody telling me to vote “I don’t like it” on the Facebook layout. I will, as soon as I’m done reading through the latest Terms of Service the Antichrist has put together for Facebook’s crack legal team.

That reminds me:

4. On Facebook, any rights you once had will be null and void after you open an account. Technically, according to Facebook’s new terms of service slavery is not explicitly illegal. The federal government could literally sell you and your children to a slaveowner, forcing you into a lifetime of menial servitude, until you finally utter your last gasping breath. If you’re lucky, they might give forty acres and a mule to your children, and even then you will be yelled at by Republicans who will scream at you to act just like white people or else and shut up while America continually steals pieces of your culture, bit by bit, until finally you have nothing left to give. That’s Facebook for you.

Oh wait. Wait, I’m sorry, I’m thinking of the Emancipation Proclamation. My mistake. What Facebook will do is steal everything you’ll ever put up and make sure you never see any rights to it ever again. If you ever speak up, they’ll unleash their crack Legal Team, comprised of three wolverines, a dozen land piranhas, and twenty King Cobra snakes, and have them eat you, and if possible extract what precious minerals they can find in your body.

I hear the average person contains $25.00 worth of precious minerals. That may not sound like much, but considering that there are 175 million Facebook users, and more than 850 million photos are uploaded to the site each month, that’s more than $4 billion they could get just via extracting your precious minerals. If they forced you to give them your kidneys? They could take over the world. Think about that next time you’re putting photos up under Facebook’s terms of service. The legal team’s getting hungry. Especially the cobra.

The Machinations of the Manifestation of My Giant Nintendo Game

As far as building things goes, I have never built anything quite like the giant squid. Frankly, I have never actually built a giant squid, so that goes without saying. Squids are dangerous, squishy, and gross, and they have giant eyeballs that follow you around, eyeing you suspiciously, lest you attempt to steal their giant treasure or reservoirs of ink. They know you. They know you have a huge report coming up, and you’ll be needing ink for your pen, and you’d like nothing more than to get your ink from a giant squid, so that you can stroll right up to the front of your class, in your flip-flops and Hawaiian shirt, and tell your teacher, “Here is my report, I got the ink from a giant squid”, and everybody will ooh and aah and marvel at Giant Squid Dude. And then you’ll get to date the head cheerleader.

So to Hell with the squid. It’s a bastard that won’t give up its ink. What I did build was a giant Nintendo game. I did not build it well, as far as general Nintendo game construction is concerned. But I did build it. I built it out of cardboard, and hot glue, and love, and blood, and sweat, and tears, and screaming and burning and cursing and smashing in walls with my fists in rage because the cardboard wouldn’t stay the hell together, but dammit, when you are asked to build a giant Nintendo game, by gum, you build it, and you smile, even when somebody else brings in a giant butane lighter that makes your Nintendo game look like last week’s solid waste products by comparison. And then you go home, and cry in your pillow.

This giant butane lighter put my Game Boy to shame.

As you might expect, I built this for my art studio class. There are very few other situations where it pays off to build a giant cardboard Nintendo game that you can’t play. There are very few job interviews, for example, where this is a plus:

Interviewer: Good morning, Mr. Jenkins, I see that you have all your paperwork with you, but something’s missing, I just can’t…

Jenkins: (pulls out a giant Nintendo game made out of cardboard.)

Interviewer: My God, that is BRILLIANT!

Jenkins: So does that mean I’m hired?

Interviewer: You can also have my daughter’s hand in marriage.

But of course, in an art studio class, as well as possibly applying to work at a cardboard box factory, cardboard construction–meaning “true high art, in corrugated form”–is extremely important. My teacher made sure to stress how important it is to know how to build objects out of only cardboard and hot glue. It’s apparently especially important in my chosen major, which happens to be architecture, a trade rivaled only by engineering in its pretentiousness. In architecture circles, I could build a pair of binoculars in front of a building and they would be considered fine art. Normal people, of course, would consider me to be mildly retarded. Many would stare.

But I am a pretentious asshole, and I view everyone else as being mildly retarded, so it all works out in the end, and everybody ends up equally right. My Nintendo game, however, is quite important to me. As a cardboard structure, it speaks to the power of weakness in large quantities, as my construction of the thing was weak, and the cardboard itself was weak, but if you combine them together, you get something that will still fall apart before I can get it home. It also speaks to love, as a child to his Nintendo game; and sadness, as when the screen of the game burns out, as it appears to have in my cardboard game.

Most importantly, though, my Nintendo game speaks to the human condition, which all too often manifests itself in the form of tiny objects with electrical parts in them. The Nintendo game is the most important manifestation of this manifestation. The creation of the Nintendo game is important in that it is a connection with the manifestation of life, which in itself is stationed in the direction of machinations with the imagination of the human condition, made real by the manifestation of more life created by the manifestation of the old life, which is now dead. This is very important to understanding my work. All of that last sentence? You need to understand all of it, in some fundamental way, to appreciate the unique directions I took in making a giant box out of cardboard.

Giant Game Boy battery cover.

So anyway, next time you’re playing a Game Boy, and you’re daydreaming, and thinking to yourself, and a flash comes to your mind, and you wonder what it would be like if they built one twenty-five times larger than the one currently in your hand, and you think this because you’ve been smoking marijuana, think of me and this work. Because art is nothing if it is not thought of. It’s a creation. And it requires manifestation. Naturally.