May 2nd, 2015

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Our journalist Ray Weaver has been living here for most of the past 20 years. Originally a member of the ‘Guinness pipeline’ – that group of expats who make a living annoying the punters at the nation’s many Anglo-themed pubs – he also writes songs, stories and anything else that earns a crust.

Here follows an open letter from a reluctant Facebooker. I wish to thank my esteemed editor (in advance) for allowing me to use this month’s column to send a personal message to all of my Facebook (friends)…

Time to face it
Dear Facebook pals, I am an older guy. I have a Facebook page because all of the marketing gurus say I need one these days to promote my various musical and literary enterprises … and, of course, because I want to check up on what my kids are up to. Period.

I can use the messages thing and I can comment on my own status – and perhaps your status when I am feeling frisky.

Otherwise, I really do not wish to get involved. I certainly do not want to take a questionnaire called ‘R U in Luv’. What if I took it and got the wrong answer? Are you gonna explain that to my wife?

No joking, no poking
I do not care which ‘Finding Nemo’ character you are. And the ‘27 different things I didn’t know about Adam Sandler’. There is a reason I don’t know them

I don’t want to know which ‘80s band you most resemble or see the results of how sexy you are, find out which Barry Manilow song I most resemble, or make
myself into a cartoon character. (Author’s note: Although I would like to take the credit for being clever, I did not invent any of the above Facebook applications; they are all real.)

Please don’t ‘poke’ me, ‘send me a drink’ or ‘throw snowballs’ at me. I am not 12 years old. Seriously, don’t you people work?

Lately a ladies man
And who are these amazingly attractive young women who are, according to the ads on the right hand side there, desperately trying to track me down? It says we went to high school together, but I’ll be darned if I can remember you.

I mean, I’m  attered that you are looking for me, but by my calculations, you weren’t due to be born when I left high school for another 20 years.

And no-one who looks like you ever tried to track me down while I was in high school, unless it was to get help with their science homework.

More tapas alas
I guess now is as good a time as any to admit that I also tweet.
Again, because the music gurus say I should. I still do not know what this experience is adding to my life.

Now, there are some good tweeters out there: news sites, music sites, sports stuff. I like that.

But I also follow a supposedly professional music publicist who just last night tweeted me ten times from Australia to inform me about every course she had for dinner. “TAPAS up next. Yippee!!” she wrote. Why do I need to know this?

Just like high school 
In closing, Facebookers and other cyberpals … let’s just keep this casual. I view this whole thing as a kind of neverending high school or college reunion that allows people who otherwise wouldn’t be in contact to touch base now and then.

And – just like at a real, in-the-flesh reunion – I kinda want to circle the group with a drink in my hand, make a few pithy comments and move on.