Quotes About Social media

As I have mentioned, I am not a fan of Facebook. It seems to me like a kind of quiet and subtle virus that worms its way into every aspect of the living tissue of daily existence, until it is impossible to think about cereal without finding an ad for Raisin Bran in your in-box. I am sure the endless intrusive connections can be a great deal of fun for some people, but it really doesn't make sense for Dexter.

If I may, I'd like to take a moment to praise Mark Zuckerberg's parents for not procreating sooner. Praise be to all that is holy that Facebook didn't exist when I was that age and the Internet then was but a Usenet group for Star Trek fans. I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have grown up when cameras used actual film because the only thing that stood between infamy and me was the clerk who developed photos at Walgreens. Thank God for him.

The difference between social media and a social life is the difference between eating a marshmallow Peep and dining on a tomahawk-cut rib eye: one is substantial and nutritious; the other is just a momentarily satisfying puff of sweetened air, offering no long-term benefits. I can enjoy the fluff, but I can't subsist on it.

Or how about when a person publishes something along the lines of, "This has been the worst day EVAH," but then gets all closed-lipped about why it's been so bad. This is attention-seeking at its worst.

With the mere click of a mouse, I can be put in my place but good via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, or Google+, just to name a few. (But not MySpace, which has been a ghost town since 2008. I hope Tom's okay.)

The internet is just one big venue for anyone to say anything to anybody—without personal consequences.

In my three-pronged approach to worrying less about politics, step two is to stop reading political news on social media and to absolutely stop reacting to it.

Per Mother Jones, "Nearly 70 percent of American adults say they get some of their news via social media."134 That equals a metric shit ton of misinformation being disseminated every second, which means a metric shit ton of livid tweets and comments and angry-face emojis in response.

If it doesn't cost anything, you are the product.

What's so scary is that mob rule has displaced due process. The faceless masses are America's new arbiters of justice. I'm so fearful of the court of public opinion that I've stopped saying anything of value online, stopped unpacking what's important in my life, stopped trying to forge any kind of understanding over social media.

I'm terrified that one offhand joke, one out-of-context remark, will set into motion a public shaming, because I see it happen every day.

Nearly 70 percent of American adults say they get some of their news via social media."134 That equals a metric shit ton of misinformation being disseminated every second, which means a metric shit ton of livid tweets and comments and angry-face emojis in response.

Like me, if you're already predisposed to anxiety, positive or negative stimulus on social media can make you feel worse, largely because of the algorithms. At its advent, all updates on apps such as Twitter were delivered chronologically and per our preferences. But now our usage data is measured and monetized, and algorithms put more emotionally weighted events in our timelines, such as engagements, births, and significant accomplishments.

On the upside, social media can make us feel less alone, providing a crucial shot of dopamine when we need a physiological pick-me-up, for example, when the whole world's reacting to Game of Thrones at the exact same time.

I'm through stopping midconversation to post a funny quote because I feel like it's my job. I'm done creating "link-bait." I'm going to be in the moment rather than upload the moment, because the purpose of my life is not public consumption.

I don't want to measure my success in clicks. I don't want my value as a person determined by retweets. When I die, I guarantee I won't care how many Tumblr followers I've had. And why is anyone following me in the first place, as I've yet to determine where I'm going?

For all the precautions parents exercise now, all the helmets and booster seats and sunscreen, wouldn't toddlers be safer without one million followers on Instagram? If nothing else, how can we keep our nation's kids from becoming assholes when thousands of strangers tell them how great they are every day?

Of all my own fears—and, oh, there are plenty—social media tops the list. Admitting that it is my chief worry causes me more distress, knowing people in other nations face daily threats to their safety and well-being. I'm terrified that one offhand joke, one out-of-context remark, will set into motion a public shaming, because I see it happen every day.

What's so scary is that mob rule has displaced due process. The faceless masses are America's new arbiters of justice. I'm so fearful of the court of public opinion that I've stopped saying anything of value online, stopped unpacking what's important in my life, stopped trying to forge any kind of understanding over social media. I mostly post shots of my pets and complain about the weather. It's edgy stuff.

I like blogs. they're good times.

Make sure you have people who love you, the real you, not the Instagram you.

And here's the good news: even if things don't get better, you can always make them look good on the internet.

When you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail. When you're angry, everything looks like a target. There are a lot of angry people in the world and these days, they're all online.

When you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail. When you're angry, everything looks like a target. There are a lot of angry people in the world. And these days, they're all online