Ramp Randoms: The Five Worst Kinds Of People On Facebook
Facebook. It’s kind of a big deal.
In general, our Facebook experiences tend to be positive, so much so that despite being frequently up-in-arms about privacy issues, most of us still tend our accounts with loving regularity. It stands to reason, then, that we share ground when it comes to Facebook niggles and the site’s darker quirks, shared ground that has enabled us to put together this comprehensive list of the five worst types of people on the bloody thing.
It’s worth noting that multiple choice applies here; you may have friends that have ticked all of these boxes. You poor bugger.
People Who Fall For Creepy Spam About High-School Sluts
Now, here’s a good way of measuring the worth of a Facebook friend. If you have a friend that fell for one of those SHOCKING! AT 15 SHE DID THAT IN PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL EVERY DAY! links with an alluring photograph of a young woman wearing skin-tight clothes or in a state of minor (pun intended) undress, you have a seriously fucking creepy friend. Not to mention a seriously fucking stupid friend who thinks that child pornography is distributed for free on Facebook. Oh, you got caught out too? You clicked on the link to see what the dirty teenage slut was doing with her exhibitionist bottom? Do you follow schoolgirls into the park to flash your flaccid prick at them, too? We’re delighted you got done by a scam that nicks your personal information and/or subscribes you to a premium rate text service, but we’re less delighted by the fact that one of our friends got reeled in by the promise of seeing an underage girl sexually humiliated online. Someone call To Catch A Predator.
People Who Spell Liek Dis lol xx
Strange when people who are perfectly able to speak are completely unable to spell. And no, we don’t mean people who have genuine literacy issues; we mean adults who think it’s acceptable to type liek dis n a futiil atmt 2 b cute!!!!!! Seriously, if you’re over the age of thirteen, check yourself; you look like a fucking idiot. Txt spk had valid origins. There once was a serious character limit on SMS. You know, in 1998. There’s no excuse any more. And what’s with the non-stop lols and kisses? In real life, if you augmented ‘I know, I watched Up last night too’ by cackling in your friend’s face and smooching them thrice, you wouldn’t be long having your lips swiftly moved to the other side of your head. Grow up; you’re about as adorable as a plastic bag of horseflies.
People Who Overshare About Their Damn Projects
Social media is for sharing; ain’t no one complaining about that. If you’re developing a new app, if your business has a Facebook account, if you write, make music or take photographs for a living… you can and should utilise Facebook to update friends, family and potential consumers about what you’re up to and where they can sample your lekkytronic wares. Even outside of the world of business, people who have started down major new life paths are, nine times out of ten, doing something interesting enough to share with their circle of well-wishers. But, like own-brand condoms, there’s a limit to how far good will can stretch. If you do nothing else on Facebook but go on about your project, in the clipped and sterile tones of an automated update service, you’re going to get yourself Hidden quicker than a Swiss Roll at the doorbell siren of a visiting glutton. Oh, and same goes for pet causes. Yes, everyone should care about the Troika/rainforests/fathers’ rights, but all you get from banging the one drum all the time is repetitive strain injury and a broken drum.
People Who Overshare About Their Damn Kids
Look, we love children. Some of us at Ramp.ie have children, and many of us still are children, in various pitiful ways. Many of us feel the need to procreate at some stage in our lives. And despite common and high-pitched protest, most of us do like other people’s kids, too; kids are funny, cheeky, cute and surprising. Childhood’s awesome. The majority of people keep the memories of their own formative years close to their hearts, or at least in shoeboxes under the bed. THAT SAID: no one finds a child more fascinating, special and sweet than his or her own parents. That’s biology. That’s how the human race has survived and thrived; the protection and love offered to each generation from the creatures that brought it into being. So yes, your friends will want to see the baby pictures, the snapshots you got of Junior standing for the first time, or pulling the dog’s ears, or wearing a frankly stupid gown on his ‘graduation’ from Montessori. But every fucking day? With an accompanying 400-word story about how little Chloe pointed at a cow and said ‘Moo’, or how three-year-old Jacob told a shelf-stacker in Spar ‘Me big boy!’? No. No one cares. It’s just not that fascinating. Your kid is special: intelligent, adorable and hilarious. But nine times out of ten, the only person who’ll think so is you. Remember how we said good will is like a cheap condom? It just broke. Sound familiar?
People Who Share ‘Prayer’ Photographs
How many of us, over the Christmas period, saw circulating on Facebook the same pair of photographs purporting to be of the Indian woman who was gang-raped and beaten in December of last year, one with her on mechanical ventilation, one with her posing, beautiful and vibrant, in a sari? Considering the woman hadn’t even been named, wasn’t it remarkable that some random page on Facebook had managed to procure before and after photographs? Just as well for that page, seeing as tens of thousands of utter cretins shared, liked and commented on those photographs because apparently sharing, liking and commenting on Facebook has become a religion all on its own now.
Assuming you have stupid enough friends, your Facebook News Feed will be regularly stuffed with photographs of babies with black eyes and dogs being strangled by men in hoodies. ‘1 Like = 1 Prayer’ bray the text descriptions. Or better still ‘Share = U care. Ignore = U don’t care’. You know the only thing more useless than third-hand prayers? Facebook Likes as a prayer substitute. Go fucking donate something if you’re saddened by what you see; Barnados could use it.
But no; flash-in-the-pan grief will have to do. Only by looking at photos of awfulness, with one hand slowly inching down the front of your pants, can you truly appreciate how awful awfulness is. Schadenfreude is so thrilling. And you can measure how large a person’s heart is, and how influential their good deeds are, by how many fucking times they can hit the fucking Like button.
Growing Facebook pages is big business. Massive pages can be sold off because they have massive audiences. In short, THERE IS MONEY TO BE MADE IN PHOTOS OF ABUSED KIDS AND DEAD DOGS. Don’t be complicit, you fucking toolbags. If you share, like and comment on these photographs, please resolve in 2013 to grow a brain in place of the asthmatic hamster waddling on the little wheel between your ears.