HEAR THAT WAKE UP CALL?

By Hans Ebert
@HansEbertMusic
Visit: www.hans-ebert.com

“No, man, please. I really don’t wanna see it or talk about it.” It was a friend telling another friend about something or another he had found on someone we vaguely know on social media. Why did it matter? “But the huge numbers here are bullsh*t”, continued the other friend. “They’re not legit. They’re all private accounts with no previous posts!” Why did this matter?

I sat there and thought about that saying how there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Remember that? These days?

Maybe too many of us have way too much time on our hands and which is why we continue to feed the social media beast.

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GETTING OFF THE TWITTER TRAIN…

By Hans Ebert
Visit Hans-Ebert.com

It was my last girlfriend who tried to wean me off it- Twitter. Though pointing out that it was taking over my life and, without me even realising it, detonating any chance of trying to make our relationship work, I refused to listen. I was lost to the clutter of 140 words or less. Instead of there being one less bell to answer, it was adding another empty online junkie’s lament dressed and disguised as some bluebird of happiness. Progress has created some dangerous addictions. It might explain much about a world having lost its way. Lost with no direction of home. Refusing to recognise the tell tale signs.

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WHOA! THAT’S TOO MUCH INFORMATION AND CLUTTER, FACEBOOK!

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

Everyone around is singing “Last Christmas” and “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” I look around and see what I have seen for the last three three years: those who have paid to attend some “festive gathering” insisting to themselves that they’re going to have a good time. Maybe some are. Me, I’m weighing out the pros and cons of leaving Facebook. If I jump ship, this would be the fifth time though an ex live-in who thought she had figured out a successful escape plan quickly realised that like that line in Hotel California, you can check out anytime you want, but you can never leave. You might have bolted, but you’re still there like the ghost of Christmas past.

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