The Guelph Mercury, 1/31/2009

Status update: Whoa. You’re not going to believe this: That girl Sally, or maybe it’s Sue, that you sat near in Grade 10 chemistry (or was it Grade 11 calculus?) is working on her homework.

Mark posted a video of a dog wearing a funny hat. Again.

Jenna wrote on Kelly’s wall: “Give me a call sometime, girl.”

Someone you’ve never met named Brian P. or something like that wants to be your friend. His favourite movie is How Stella Got Her Groove Back and he apparently hates winter. Sounds like you two are going to get along just smashingly.

And what’s this? Fred has put up another photo of himself, taken by himself, looking at himself in the mirror.

Oh, the all-access banality of Facebook. How can something so underwhelming be so ridiculously popular, with more than 150 million people around the world using it daily?

We may have just witnessed a new Facebook first. Britain’s Chelsy Davy announced her breakup from Prince Harry last weekend. You know the one, the third in line to be King of Canada, the charming 24-year-old who seems to always be in hot water for showing up at a party in a Nazi uniform or calling a fellow soldier a “Paki” or a “raghead.”

Like any sensible person in their 20s, his former girlfriend pre-empted the press by using Facebook to spread the word. She changed her status to “Relationship: Not in one,” which instantly sent all her Facebook friends a broken heart icon to tell them the news.

It maybe the first time a prince has been dumped on a social networking site, and the press ate it up. “Facebook: the new town crier,” proclaimed the headline of a column in Britain’s Evening Standard.

It’s not the first time someone famous had their relationship ended through Facebook, though. Singer Amy Winehouse was, err, “divorced” by her husband via Facebook. He changed his status from “married” to “single” after she was photographed on a tropical island with a rugby player.

But Facebook isn’t just the new dumper. It’s also the new funeral parlour, record store, picket line, market place, social club and public petition.

If you’re under 30, and you’ve just died, you’re probably being honoured as we speak with your very own Facebook memorial page. Hundreds will line up to post uplifting messages on your memorial wall, like “I never met Greg, but he sounds like a good guy . . .” We used to send flowers. Now we just click a few buttons, say a few words, and move on.

And anyone who’s anyone knows real protests are for suckers. Who wants to stand outside in the dead of winter, in front of some government office holding a protest sign when you can just start a Facebook group?

It worked for the 30,000 kids who fought the McGuinty government’s plans to take all the fun out of being a new driver, and it’s worked for plenty more political causes.

In Italy, police are monitoring Facebook websites dedicated to incarcerated mafioso, concerned the site is being used as a way for the mob to keep in touch.

I can just imagine the state secrets the mafia are trading online: A photo of Vinny spilling the cannoli, a heated discussion on which Godfather movie was the best, or maybe just Tony boasting about the time he whipped Frankie in game of Scrabble.

It’s even become an arm of the law, at least in some places: last month, the High Court of Australia in Canberra ruled that Facebook is a valid way to serve court notices to defendants.

That’s right. In the eyes of that court, a summons posted on Facebook, right next to the photos of you drinking out of a ten-gallon hat, is legally binding.

Yep, Facebook is the new everything. Remember when we used to do things in person? How quaint.