I have completed my journey through Farmville, and have permanently deleted my Facebook account. The FV affliction turned into a huge, pointless time sink. FB is the AOL of the 21^st century, an unreliable, slow, buggy, spam-filled, closed system that attracts folks like moths to a candle. I’m done. Kaput. Goodbye. So Long. Pound sand, FB.

If you have Google search suggestions turned on, start keying How do I into the search bar. Chances are, one of the top two suggestions to complete your query will be delete my facebook account.

Do it. Just do it. Or forget the Google, and head here. MLB is still farming away, I’ll start preaching to her.

Meanwhile, I’ll return my attention to this other time sink, this old blog. Which I shouldn’t have neglected.

-k-

OK, I’ll sheepishly admit I have a Facebook account. For my money, FB is a 21^st century AOL, slow, quirky, noisy, and spam-filled. A cacophonous virtual din. Still it’s used by millions of people who see some value. To them, rock on and enjoy. Perhaps I’m too generationally challenged old to appreciate all the bells and whistles.

Nevertheless, there are a couple of FB uses that I do like. The first is the ability to retrieve photos, like the one of my beautiful granddaughter that I used in the previous post.

The only other way I use FB is to play the most egregious time sink game I’ve ever encountered. A TWAC’s holy grail. I speak, even more sheepishly, of:

Oh, the hours I’ve flushed away clicking those tiny plots, laughing at the out-of-scale nature of things on Farmville¹, and marvel at a place where brown cows yield chocolate milk, and where such items as grain silos, small ponds, and even other houses can be stored in a tool shed.

Still, those days will soon be coming to an end. I’m a level 44 farmer, I can plant, buy and give away anything in the store. I’ve gathered all the ribbons I can realistically gather². I say soon, because I want to master at least 10 crops. And have a villa. By the time that happens, though, Farmville will probably have some other gimmick to keep me in the fold.

Once a TWAC, always a TWAC, I guess.

-k-