I read a quote today by Professor Eben Moglen who referred to Facebook as “a structure for degenerating the integrity of the human personality.”  That’s perhaps an unfair extrapolation on the potential  for this dominate branch of social media and I’m not sure I’m wiling to go quite that far. But it occured to me a month ago that Facebook was taking pot shots at me, right there on my own couch.  Not in the literal sense, but in subtle ways. So much of what is posted there daily, on our Facebook pages, is uninvited and sometimes disturbing.

I began realizing that it was at times affecting my mood, my outlook, interrupting my peace and serenity, challenging my long held beliefs about, well, just everything, and revealing a side of friends and family that I just dont reallly care to know about.  There is  something to be said for having your head in the sand on a variety of subjects.  For instance, do I really want to know if a close relative got really drunk and woke up in the front yard wearing nothing but a sombrero, a poncho and no panties?  Not really.

I have always known that my personal information was being mined by too many dot coms to count and that this information was being analyzed and employed as marketing strategy by retailers, political groups, social causes and news outlets.  Since nobody was showing up at the door it seemed fairly harmless.  Maybe not.

Do I really want to see an innocent journalist beheaded?  Can’t they find any lawyers? Should I seriously consider accepting a friend request from Pussy Galore, join Whorepresents, Teacherstalking, or check out Speedofart.com?  Probably not.

In the beginning it was fun and seemed a fascinating way to stay in contact with loved ones.  Somewhere along the way it appeared to me to be turning “evil.”

And so about a month ago I deactivated my account.  I don’t miss it.  In fact, I feel better.  Too many times I logged off with the pained air of someone mentally molested, unsettled, anguished, disgusted.  Why would I want this in my life?

I realize that I am in the minority and that my sensibilities may be a tad fragile. But in the end I think Moglen’s argument may have merit.