Facebook is more or less a curse, really, but closing one's account seems too melodramatic -- like jumping off a bridge without any of the real meat-shredding consequences of such a genuinely bold act.
Then too, Facebook is a little like reading a really awful novel. It's badly written, badly plotted, and full of characters among whom one can't distinguish -- they all have the same voice -- and about whom one doesn't give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. But even so, there's a stubborn ineradicable impulse to know what happens next. For me, at least, a book has to be startlingly bad before I'll put it down and read no more. Even a Face book.
If you're a fan of fiction, what happens next is something you look forward to. But if you're an observer of the world around you, in our time, what happens next doesn't bear thinking about. I sometimes wish our actual world were a story I could put down: too sick, too monotonous.
This is all by way of prologue. What I really want to complain about is all my Facebook "friends" who are Democrats. They are boring me badly with all their hysteria about that knucklehead Romney et al. It's turning rapidly into the sort of book that I can put down.
Monotony ought to be an entailment of monotonicity, you'd think. When things are going relentlessly from bad to worse, there's not a whole lot of plot interest in whether they're going a little faster or a little slower -- particularly since the differences in tempo are microscopic, assuming there are any differences at all.
But all my Obamaphile friends seem deeply concerned about whether the bad-to-worse curve is a little steeper or a little shallower from one day to the next. I don't know how they do it. Perhaps it's a little like watching America's Next Top Model?