{"id":6385,"date":"2026-01-27T17:04:43","date_gmt":"2026-01-27T16:04:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/?p=6385"},"modified":"2026-01-27T17:05:56","modified_gmt":"2026-01-27T16:05:56","slug":"who-the-hell-are-you-facebook-edition","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/?p=6385","title":{"rendered":"Who the Hell Are You? (Facebook Edition)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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I have like a several hundred thousand things to do. My to-do list looks like a cartoon gift wish list to Santa. And books are piled on my desk. Some of this is self-inflicted. I have Czech homework to do, a substack to write, and feelings to lie about in a journal entry. I\u2019m swamped.
Naturally, I go to Facebook.
Facebook has become a strange place to an old person like me. When I was younger and used to stare into my computer, I recognized everyone. I also \u2013 occasionally \u2013 saw posts from people I actually know in real life. I saw their opinions, humorous observations, and run-throughs of their travels and experiences.
But this is no longer the case.
My Facebook page might as well be the Facebook page of a random stranger. The posts are split up among political themes, pictures of houses in Portugal, and kettlebell workouts. There\u2019s not a face I recognize in my People You May Know section. It might as well be filled with forest nymphs and battle dwarves. There are family pictures out of which I can not pick one person. I know nobody on my wall anymore. Now and then a friend\u2019s post comes up and then it\u2019s right back to pictures of shihtzus in sailor outfits.
This is just real life nowadays. Nobody reading this thinks anything strange about the description of Facebook or of my day written above. But imagine being an objective observer in this thing. Imagine if you were transported here from 1990 or something. Imagine explaining to that 1990 person what I have just written. It was definitely have a Twilight Zone feel to it.
\u201cSo, when I get stressed out, I look at a little box on my desk that offers images of dogs and inspirational quotes tailored to my needs and interests. Oh, and in that little box there it suggests people I might connect with to make friends. Why? Because they are \u2013 evidently \u2013 friends of other friends. I guess. I have never laid eyes on any of them.\u201d
1990 Me asks questions and, though he is not a drinker yet, he reaches for a bottle of Chambord that his parents had had in the liquor cabinet when he was born and would have until he turns 36.
\u201cThat list of names and tiny faces? Oh, that\u2019s a sidebar. That\u2019s all the people on Earth that I know and I can instantly talk to any of them. Right now. Yeah? You want to try? Who? I can\u2019t hear you with that bottle in your mouth. Oh her. No, we can\u2019t talk to her anymore.\u201d
It would take more time to explain why my personal information box would be ruled by the antics of Donald Trump, a person who 1990 Me thinks was just in a movie and has a weird hairweave thing. It would be better to leave ChatGPT for a different time or 1990 Me might lose his mind.
So this whole thing is ridiculous. And I know I should fix its place in my life. And I would do that, but I have like a hundred thousand things to do.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I have like a several hundred thousand things to do. My to-do list looks like a cartoon gift wish list to Santa. And books are piled on my desk. Some of this is self-inflicted. I have Czech homework to do, a substack to write, and feelings to lie about in a journal entry. I\u2019m swamped.Naturally, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6386,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6385","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/damiengaleone.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/Shrug.jpg?fit=377%2C500&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1EvEu-1EZ","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6385","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6385"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6385\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6387,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6385\/revisions\/6387"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/6386"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6385"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6385"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6385"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}