Facebook bludgeons Norman Rockwell

     Now that X has become an odious sewer, fled by the feeling, is Facebook next?
     And really, it's amazing, once some sort of critical mass was reached on Bluesky, a few weeks ago, how quickly Elon Musk's hallelujah chorus of haters and nutjobs became unbearable. I visit it now the way you hurry down a darkened street lined with drug addicts and derelicts. 

     Now Facebook is ... threadbare. What was once a pleasant coffee klatsch of your friends and relatives showing off newborns, surgical scars and lunch has, become, for me at least, a dumptruck unleashing its load on my head every visit.
     The breaking point came for me Friday, when I realized I was being pelted with Normal Rockwell paintings, some not even by Rockwell.
     Don't get me wrong — I like Norman Rockwell, or did, before Facebook grabbed me by the nape of the neck and began rubbing my face in his work. For years he was underrated, as a kitschy booster of American small town values. Even though he's not only an incredible stylist, but also an artist with a strong moral sense. Yes, he painted nostalgic, patriotic tableaus; but he also produced jarring dispatches from the civil rights era. He was a dramatist. He told stories.
     In 2015, driving out of Boston, I made a point of stopping in his studio and museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Well worth a visit, particularly to see his almost invisible brushwork. He is America's Michelangelo.

     So maybe this is my fault. Maybe a few weeks ago I clicked on one of the histories that went along with a Rockwell painting that Facebook was serving up. Because suddenly I was getting them continually, every third post it seemed. I went to see who was sharing them, and found odd Facebook pages that didn't look like they were from actual people, but Korean kittens and oddly-named non-persons who only posted Rockwell's work. Some had the same Rockwell caption on various other paintings. Some ID'ed work of another artist as Rockwell.
     I started vigorously blocking  these AI Rockwell aficionados, requesting to see this kind of thing less. And it seemed to work, regarding Rockwell. But other artists, and old movies, and random historical facts, rain down. 
     Now Facebook seems like those slideshows before a movie — crude ads for used car lots and knick-knack boutiques. Many, many high end socks. All that trivia, all that capsule pop history. Enough already. Who needs to spend their life doing this? It's not interesting anymore. 

      In a way, I'm grateful, and sorry it took them this long to alienate me. Now I'm going to post my column every morning and scram, or try to. As I write that, there does seem a "two drinks is my limit" quality to saying that. Naive. I do like checking my memories on Facebook — 16 years of life served back at me. So one has to be careful, too, regarding sweeping pronouncements of that kind. Not a good idea to sign checks that you can't cash.