Social Media Exit (Redux)

I kicked off tumultuous 2020 by proclaiming I was done with Facebook… only to come ROARING back in March to discuss world events; later, I would act as citizen journalist by live-streaming the initial local BLM march to over a thousand viewers. I spent many hours on the platform doomscrolling, arguing, trolling.

Yep. It had unfolded exactly like a number of similarly addicted folks predicted back in January—”You’ll be back.” Took about a month.

Painting by Jim Carrey.

It was but an ersatz digital withdrawal or erasure anyway—I kept the other platforms going, so ‘ jumping back in’ with both cloven hooves is hyperbole. I never left.

I have been through addiction battles before. I know what this feels like—the single glass of wine that surely won’t lead to another binge-bender-blackout drunk. Nah.

My doubters were right, but I wish they’d been wrong. The last ten months of bickering, insults and threats levied at me for putting on the character of a vocal, logical skeptic about all current media narratives—far from a new condition for the author—did nothing but strain IRL relationships and lose followers from the various Author pages.

Of course, the perspicacious among ye will already know that, no matter the issue du jour, these platforms are designed to foster such a contentious climate. To what ultimate end the fracturing of friendships and families, I dare not speculate.

This time’s gonna be different.

Yea, brothers and sisters, upon the day of the 2020 winter solstice great conjunction I renounced what I have come to see as a literal demonic presence in all our lives. I had already closed my personal Fakeba’al page as well as Twitwit; at last, I ditched Instaghoul. Since there are other admins to run them, the Mind Harvest Press and James D McCallister Author Fakebook pages will remain live—for now. Information may be shared through those pages, but it won’t come directly from me, nor will I participate.

But, but, you may ask: how will the author sell books?

Quick and brutal answer—if I had to depend on book sales from my legions of loyal readers counted among social media friends, I’d have starved long ago. Oh, sure, the ones who came out to public events. Those are the true friends and heroes. The other 90%? Put it this way—digital likes are cheap and no fun to eat.

And so… it’s time to change. For real. Not only for me, but for all of humanity. Let it begin within, as the bumper sticker says. It can’t occur from without, from upon a shimmering screen. That’s the opposite plan.

Step one: Turn it off. Go outside. Later, like me, maybe you’ll close it all down. I certainly feel more alive having done so.

If there’s a remaining platform for information from me it will be found here. In any case, if you’re reading this and followed or friended me on one of the now-closed pages, thank you, best wishes for a happy year ahead, and namaste.