I keep getting this close to shutting down Facebook.

You might have noticed a little more activity around the ol’ Burger of late. Partly that’s because I’ve been shaking out my workflows and I discovered some regular time I could devote to my blog.

Partly it’s because I really, really, really want to ditch facebook.

I happily quit it a couple of years ago, but had to go back to deliver traffic to my Fairfax content. I have a whole essay, a whole book of essays, about Zuck’s role in the accelerating collapse of Western Civilisation, and every minute I’m on that hell site feels like I’m adding my own boot leather to the gas pedal.

But… traffic.

For a lot of people the Zuckbook is the internet. So many old blog buddies and online friends migrated there over the years that it feels… indispensable. But its not. I’m convinced it’s not.

What it is, is a massive fucking criminal organisation that, like the fossil fuel industry, is destroying everything pure and good in the world for the sake of untaxed profits.

So yeah, more blogging. That’ll show the fuckers.

Less facebook.

And soon, soon my friends Imma put a bullet in that account. The moment of clarity came for me when I realised that traffic wasn’t everything. In fact it wasn’t much of anything. I neither want nor need a flood of internet randoes passing through here every day.

I want a club where people I like feel welcome, where conversations don’t devolve to shit flinging, where politics, religion and whatever that other great profanity is, are nowhere to be found.

The big social platforms are just awful, even Twitter which I have curated with aggressive blocking into something better than the toxic waste dump it felt like a couple of years ago. It’s still mostly people bitching and moaning about stuff, though, with the occasional nugget of gold to draw me back in.

And in the end all the kittehs in the world might not be enough to save the bird site either. This essay in The Atlantic by Caitlin Flanagan makes a pretty strong case for ditching it too.

I know I’m an addict because Twitter hacked itself so deep into my circuitry that it interrupted the very formation of my thoughts. Twenty years of journalism taught me to hit a word count almost without checking the numbers at the bottom of the screen. But now a corporation that operates against my best interests has me thinking in 280 characters. Every thought, every experience, seems to be reducible to this haiku, and my mind is instantly engaged by the challenge of concision. Once the line is formed, why not put it out there? Twitter is a red light, blinking, blinking, blinking, destroying my ability for private thought, sucking up all my talent and wit.

So yeah, more blogging. More book writing. Less facebook. And maybe, just maybe less Twitter too.