Social Networking...is it the death of Anonymity.

As I was typing the above a pop up came along asking if i would like to share my posts on facebook or twitter......

I am aware that glastonburypeople is a social network, but it is of a size which I can cope with. What I’m taking about is facebook and it's ilk. Everybody I know or meet ask me if I have a facebook page. When I say I don't, it is usually followed by a certain amount of incredulity, followed by a very, a very demeaning snigger. This is to a man, who only started to use a mobile a little over two years ago.
So I thought ok, I will give it a go, and signed up for my very own shiny bright Facebook account and after quite a few questions it was done, I was now someone with credibility, I could join the thong of facebookers who laugh at people who were "So Last Year" then problems began I became terrified and overwhelmed by what happened over the course of the next few days. I was contacted by people from my past, present and future. I heard from people I thought were dead, people who should be, and people I knew to be. Then these ghosts of facebook past, present and future began to relentlessly invade my email inbox. People were asking me what my status was, what I had for my tea, had I seen old So And So, who I was apparently really good friends with but hadn’t seen, since their parents had them sectioned for murdering people who had not kept in contact. I also received a message from an old acquaintance who told me that during the night I would be visited by three spirits who would tell me how **** my life is. I began to weep, Slowly at first then I began to curl up in the middle of the room and bawl. In all honesty, I was beginning to feel depressed, for the want of a better adjective. That night I lit a candle and shakily went up to bed, no sooner had I settled when the first spirit booted up my laptop and began typing an email. The spirit explained that it was the ghost of facebook past. I was reminded how when I was five I urinated in my trousers during school play time and everybody had seen it happen. How awful I had been to Tony Savage whilst we were growing up. And just how ****** inconsiderate I had been to a lot of people, the next spirit came in the guise of facebook present, who harangued me for not taking part in things, for not wearing Bling, for not watching Jeremy Kyle, for not being coerced by the latest advertising campaign, for not being fashionable and mostly, but oddly, for not having the latest smart phone, and this is upsetting, solely because I now know that a phone is smarter than me, proven, because I don’t know what a smart phone is. The third spirit was the ghost of facebook future who emailed me pictures of myself as a lonely old man sitting in a bedsit, the room is dimly lit by a 30watt light bulb and the flicker of a pc monitor. the room is sparse, save for a single bed, a chair and a table, which is set with a knife and fork and a plate illustrating that I never have company. On the wall is a photograph of somebody I have forgot, but it doesn’t matter, it’s only there to cover an inexplicable indelible stain, and I’m sitting there, in front of the monitor unshaven and red eyed, facebook is on the screen and I am typing, frantically. Desperately trying to justify my existence to people I don’t even know.