What happens when you reach the ultimate in cool, pointless thresholds?
By Mark Morford
There were no bells, just so you know. There were no alarms or whistles or charming notifiers, no clowns or sparklers or strippers, not even a measly congratulatory phone call from the zippycute billionaire tweeners who run Facebook Inc. offering me a free Herman Miller chair, a fistful of stock options and a lifetime supply of Skittles.
There was no toaster oven. No plaque. There was no giftage whatsoever, no celebration or surprise party, nor was there the exact opposite -- no dire warning, no threatening email saying I have now officially encroached upon some sacred corporate territory and my account must be shut down unless I fork over $25,000, a hair sample and some semen to buy the next magical, top-secret insight, like the Mormons or the Scientologists or Oprah.
See, I have officially reached the ultimate threshold, the limit, the maximum allowable at this strange juncture in time. What a thing it is.
Yes, I have officially achieved 5,000 friends on my personal Facebook account -- which is, for some reason, the limit of what Facebook allows on one's personal pages. This, then, is clearly a major milestone, some sort of glorious pinnacle achievement, if only because the limit implies that it is and only because someone over at Facebook HQ set the limit at 5,000 and no one anywhere seems to understand or have a clue as to exactly why. ...
(click here to read the rest)
(Full URL:
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2009/07/17/notes071709.DTL&nl=fix)