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Nothing scares me more than a Facebook notification. Was I tagged in a professionally taken photo from a friend’s wedding that occurred months ago where I look hammered in front of the bride’s dad? Is it the birthday of someone from high school who I never want to speak to again? Is it a casual “On This Day” seven years ago when I looked svelt and didn’t have bags under my eyes? These are valid concerns that torture me on a daily basis.
Simply put, I had given up. There’s no use. Facebook is for political arguments between 55-year-olds and people asking for recommendations for restaurants at lavish vacation destinations, which is essentially just their way of humblebragging that they’re going on vacation while we all sit on Facebook.
Mark Zuckerberg once said, “The thing that we are trying to do at Facebook, is just help people connect and communicate more efficiently.” I’m not sure where his vision became fuzzy — probably somewhere between the 2016 election and people posting photos of their patio furniture covered in snow — but Facebook’s algorithm has somehow caused us all to operate with much less efficiency than in it did in 2005 when we all joined.
It wasn’t until recently that I saw hope. Hope for the future of Facebook. Everyone’s wedding photos began taking a backseat. Gun control arguments went by the wayside. There was, for once, a light at the end of the tunnel.
I joined a group that shared a common vision of mine. A group that “connected” and “communicated efficiently” just as Mark Zuckerberg had envisioned during his days at Harvard. I’m talking, of course, about Frasier shitposting. This group was my diamond in the rough, and with one click of the trackpad, I was now a part of a community that I felt valued me.
Frasier, obviously, is the long-running sitcom that won more major awards than Seinfeld because it’s a better show than Seinfeld. It’s taught me how to laugh genuinely, cry openly, and talk about drinking sherry and eating caviar in the most pretentious ways possible. For the last three years, I’ve made every stride to live my daily life like I’m the third Crane brother.
Upon joining, I wasn’t even sure what “shitposting” was. I assumed it came from Reddit or Digg or whatever other sites these millennials are digital slaves to, but I soon found out that it was a fairly straight-forward concept: “Shitposting is posting large amounts of content of ‘aggressively, ironically, and trollishly poor quality’ to an online forum or social network, in some cases intended to derail discussions or otherwise make the site unusable to its regular visitors.” This is essentially just the 2018 version of raising your hand in high school sex-ed to ask the teacher what a “bukkake” was solely to make them feel uncomfortable.
And, obviously, I’m all in.
You can call it “shitposting,” but this simply isn’t “shit” that’s being “posted.” Just look at these high-quality, conversation-inspiring posts from the last week.
Despite this being a public group, I found it prudent to blur Laura’s last name and profile photo due to the content of this message for the sake of anonymity on this site. I don’t think her husband and her son would be fond of me airing out her post for the world to see outside the confines of the group, but this content is simply too high quality not to include.
Yes, that’s two Frasier butt jokes in a row. Admittedly, I’m not a fan of low-brow lockerroom humor, but that goes out the window when said low-brow lockerroom humor involves two psychiatrists who gush over their tailors at Café Nervosa.
I know what you’re thinking — this childish. Immature. Juvenile. But then you keep scrolling and realize that this group is less about getting a quick laugh from the peanut gallery and more about connecting, helping, and being one with your fellow man.
Relationship advice? Look no further.
Validation in an otherwise cruel world? It’s here.
There’s even healthy debate, something that has flown out the window with the rise of the 24-hour news cycle.
These days, my feed has become a breath of fresh air. Filled with grainy screenshots and Photoshopped Frasier heads on memes we’ve seen a thousand times over, I no longer have to endure the everyday filth of engagement photos, people asking others to donate to their GoFundMe pages, and my friend’s parents accidentally writing on each other’s walls instead of messaging one another.
And if you have any other ways of using Facebook as a means of ignoring my loved ones, well, I’m listening. .
Image via Netflix