I love you, Mark

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This is a source of parody, satire, and humor and is for entertainment purposes only, published for the week of April Fools. Said posts or stories may or may not use real names, always in semi-real and/or mostly, or substantially, fictitious ways. As the purpose of said stories is to entertain and amuse and not to disparage any persons, or institutions, in any way and no malice is intended toward anyone or anything, nor should any be construed from the satirically based stories and fake news items.  This is not a source of facts or real information. That means all items or stories published for Issue 20 of The Torch are fictitious.

By Zack Downing, Staff Writer

Recently, news broke that social media giant Facebook has been compromising its user’s personal data. The company sold user details to data mining company Cambridge Analytics, and many phones were victim to phone call monitoring and text downloading. Facebook has a small sample of data and details on every user on their site, data that no users consented to giving up.

But, I wish Facebook invaded my privacy more.

This is a good start, don’t get me wrong. It’s just… I want to feel totally powerless in the face of a mammoth, soulless corporation parading around as a service that helps you connect with friends.

I not only want Facebook to show me ads based on what I type, but I want them to personally recommend me what to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I love the idea of this company burrowing through my internet history and spreading screenshots of my downloads around to corporations like Comcast and Walmart.

Mark Zuckerberg has access to every picture I’ve sent on Facebook Messenger, but I wish he could see my Snapchats too. I want Mark Zuckerberg to see my nudes.

Please, Mark, access my front-facing camera and watch me while I text. Compile all the data you can on the way my eyes light up when I see the blue Facebook logo, and the way I smile when I see someone share a meme that’s been driven into the ground.

I sleep with my phone charging on my bedstand next to me, and I would feel very comforted if Facebook could access my microphone and my dear Mark Zuckerberg could listen to my breath as I sleep. I want him to know that I’m okay.

I’m really lonely. Now that I know Facebook’s listening to the words I say and reading what I type, it’s like I actually have a friend by my side. My first friend since fourth grade.

I want to open my Facebook app and tell it about my day, about how my therapists don’t understand me like you do, about how I wish Mark Zuckerberg was listening on the other end.

Please, Facebook, can Mark Zuckerberg come to my house and take a picture of my birth certificate? Can he take a swab from the inside of my cheek and put my DNA in a petri dish?

Mark, are you reading this? Mark? I want to meet you. You’re my best friend. Please visit me. Oh, my sweet Zuckerberg, feed me the food you want me to eat. I can give you my social security number in exchange for money from advertisers.

I want you to tuck me in and tell me about today’s trending news. Oh, Mark, oh, my baby Mark. Can you live with me? I’m so lonely, and I need a friend to invade my privacy.

Can you take me to Canobie Lake Park? Dad said he’d take me to Canobie Lake Park, but then he made my mom cry for a long time, and I haven’t seen Dad since those weird cars parked in our driveway and took him away.

Can you do what Dad used to do, Mark? Can you play catch with me while sitting on the porch, wearing jean shorts, drinking that special brown soda? You look like Dad.

If I wake up at midnight after having a nightmare, will you be in the bedroom down the hall, ready to make me feel better?

Will you make me banana pancakes in the morning like Dad? Will you take me to the hospital to see Mommy?

I want to feel your soft skin against my face, my fingers running through your wiry hair. You send a warm wave of comfort up my spine. Every time I open Facebook, bits and pieces of my personal privacy go directly to you, and it reminds me that everything will be okay.

You’re all I need, Mark Zuckerberg. You’re my best friend, my long lost conjoined twin, my father. Come to my house.

Climb inside my brain, and gather all the data you want. I live for you, baby Mark. I love you.

Photo courtesy: techanankya

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