“Facebook, however, has convinced large numbers of otherwise intelligent people that the magic of the medium will reinvent advertising in a heretofore unimaginably profitable way, or that the company will create something new that isn’t advertising, which will produce even more wonderful profits.” —Michael Wolff
All this data Facebook has been collecting on me for five years? Sure, one could view it as “creepy” or “scary”.
One could also view it as “desperate” and “sad” and “a fantasy peddled to credulous advertisers, desperate to give their money to anyone with a tangible metric”.
But then I would think that. Being the product, after all.
“There is so little to remember of anyone — an anecdote, a conversation at table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.”— Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping(via)
But my Commodore 64 is mobile now, like yours, and the modems are invisible, and the internet is the air all around us. And the good friends, the real friends, are finding each other, and connecting with each other, and my Mom is turning out to be more right than ever.
Firefly didn’t have a fanbase capable of hijacking the cover of TV Guide.