#214 – Complaining about Facebook

18 02 2011

To suggest that Facebook is important to the bogan is akin to suggesting that it has only a touch of Chlamydia. Facebook has rapidly become the Alpha and Omega of the bogan’s universe. It is the first thing a bogan engages with in the morning, and the last thing it gazes upon before it lays its head to rest. Within Facebook’s innocent-seeming blue layout and unassuming fonts lies a panopticon of bogan self-satisfaction, passive aggression, shattered relationships, blurry photos and shame. There is little grammar or syntax.

The bogan’s dependence on Facebook has grown so great in the brief few years that it has been aware of the site’s existence, that it now views it as a publicly available, publicly funded service, much like electricity or water provision. Without any serious consideration, and purely on the basis of its now entrenched reliance on the site’s validation portals, the bogan now knows it has as much of a right to Facebook as it does to freedom of speech and its fifth amendment rights.

The bogan does not like change. Facebook, however, like any growing company, is obliged to continually adapt its service offering to ensure its widening market is properly catered to. One of the consequences of this is that Facebook will periodically tweak the presentation of the site, subtly altering the ways its users interact with it and each other; a decision most likely based on the near infinite amount of data the company collects on user habits. Ergo, it stands to reason that any change to Facebook’s layout comes in an effort to enhance the bogan’s user experience.

That the changes are for the bogan’s ultimate benefit matters not to the bogan, for the bogan was comfortably ensconced in the nourishing cocoon that was Facebook’s old layout, seeing no need to go changing what is already a perfectly excellent site. Upon logging in to Facebook recently, the bogan discovered that Facebook’s photos feature had been changed. It spent several seconds staring blankly at the now-unfamiliar method of viewing photographs, before reacting like a toddler that woke to find itself on a distant planet. It cried. All over the book of faces, it cried. On its status, it cried. On the comments section of its assortment of duckfaced photos, it cried. It cried by joining a group of other bogans who were also crying about these changes.

It will furiously make a comment on the wall of that bogan-rage-collective, effectively re-working the group’s thesis statement, sans correct grammar and with at least one superfluous apostrophe, then proceed to familiarise itself with the new layout so it can efficiently upload photos of the previous night’s clubbing and post passive aggressive status updates about whichever friend it got into a fight with that night. Fifteen minutes later, the bogan forgets that the layout has changed.