It’s 9:30pm GMT. Facebook is down. In the dark of the night, I see gas lamps being lit and mothers hushing their terrified children. I listen hard, and hear the collective moans of marketers, disenfranchised teenagers and lonely women, who’ve already had one more glass of wine than they should have.
People are beginning to get restless. Twitter hums with the cynical i-told-you-so-ism, and journalists sharpen their teeth, preparing to savage 4chan just as they always do when any drama unfolds on the internet. I fear that soon, things may descend into chaos.
In one hundred thousand basements across the English-speaking world, a disunited army of vitamin-D deficient trolls scratch their greasy hair and for the first time in weeks they look, confused, at the thing in the wall that looks a bit like a computer monitor, but doesn’t have any FaceBook or porn on it. The rest of the world knows it as a “window”.
Soon they’ll be on the streets. They wander into the night, the steam rising from the still hot pot noodle hanging from their pathetic chins. And they might begin to remember. They might remember that once, in some hazy past… they were human.
Gimme A Fuckin’ Break
So facebook is down. Oh. Fucking. No. You remember who your girlfriend, boyfriend, spouse and/or children are? Go speak to them. Call your parents. Call your friends and have a conversation with them, instead of leaving look-at-me-I’m-still-alive type comments on their innane status.
I bet it’s in the news tomorrow. I can almost feel the heat from the friction of the journalists’ wringing hands, ready to make it sound like The Great Facebook Blackout Of 2010 is some terrible invasion of privacy (that will somehow be of benefit to the paedophiles or the atheists or something) and making people who are only on the fringe of the online community fear it even more than they already do, and giving ammunition to the ludites who are against this unifying technology.
But most importantly, stop being such a fanny about it.
Shhh… what’s that I hear on the wind? Listen… it’s the whispered titter of some pimpled 4channer shrugging and saying, “I did it for the lulz…”