Zombie Validation and Other Bad Facebook Habits

Why Facebook? Why am I here—of all places—scrolling, posting, chasing something I can’t quite name? Sure, it can be fun, but let’s be honest: what am I actually doing here? The answer is embarrassingly simple: validation. However, is it my validation, yours, or something else? Since it's my Facebook account, you might think it would be my validation.

You get a notification. You check it. It’s just another ad.

So you start scrolling, and you see the political leanings left and right. Occasionally, I see a dick joke. Yes, I’m still twelve in my head. You find out your friends are having a barbecue tonight. You weren’t invited. Of course, you're five states away. But you’d like to have been thought of. You haven’t seen them in twenty-five years, but what's the point of being Facebook friends if you're not going to invite me to parties? Who’s validating who there...Hmmm?

Anywho...

Shifting focus, I now use Facebook to share my art—originally photos, now my writing—with the main goal of promoting my book. After 200,000 words, this isn’t just a hobby anymore. It’s something I need people to see.

It didn’t start out that way for me, though.

In the beginning, I used it to connect with family and friends, sharing small day-to-day things without having to call. Even trivial or fleeting updates found a place. Over time, though, things changed. Next thing you know, I got caught in posting knee-jerk reactions to things happening in my life. This was about the time of my divorce, and I really wasn’t in a good headspace. I left social media about twenty years ago.

Fast forward three years after my break, and everyone was saying I should try it again and talk about my photography. I was like, fine. I did that for a while. But really, all I did was talk about my kid and some photos. Nothing wrong with that either—mostly family and friends stayed on my followers list. Quite frankly, I was still healing.

Later on, back when The Walking Dead was hitting its stride—and Facebook was still more Farmville than flame war—I posted something I thought was hilarious. I said I couldn’t wait for the zombie apocalypse so I could start taking out all these Zombie Mother Fuckers.

Come on… we were all thinking it. If they’re zombies, it’s game on.

But someone didn’t see it that way. They told me they were unfriending me because their kids could see their social media.

Now, you have to understand the landscape back then. Facebook was mostly harmless chaos—Farmville crops, Mafia Wars, and the occasional poke. People weren’t curating feeds as they do now. Kids were just… there. Running around the digital yard unsupervised.

So yeah, I get it. Different expectations. Different lines.

But here’s the part that stuck with me—they didn’t just unfriend me. They made sure I knew I was being a piece of shit for posting it.

And maybe they were right.

It was still funny, though.

It was a joke. It just wasn’t their kind of joke. And that’s fine. Not everything is for everyone. I mean, if the zombie apocalypse really did happen, I’d be the first to go anyway. The fatties always are. We’re not outrunning anything. The bastards would get me in the end.

So, after all that history, back to the question at hand: why am I still on Facebook?

I learned an important lesson with that one. People are sensitive. Hell, I’m sensitive too. That person did hurt my feelings for a second. At one point in time, I did like that person. They had been kind and sweet. Then I realized, I can’t please any of you, really. Not really. At least not legally.

Again joking. I deflect with humor.

Zombie Dono says, "Book taste good!"

So, after that, I decided not to be a dick about my posts. Which meant I didn’t post about my thoughts and views on the world. Although most of everyone here seemed to enjoy shouting about it one way or another. I mean, it’s been one cacophony of huge resentment towards one another out there. The world is nuts right now. I get it. I’m right there with you.

You might think, Dono, why censor yourself? Because my two cents on what I say or believe isn’t really going to change your mind. You’re going to continue to hate or believe in the thing you want to hate because it makes you feel good. Not because of anything I say or do.

So, why am I still here? Simple: I want to be seen. But don’t look at me—look at my work. First, it was my photos. Now, it’s my book. Read it! I’m embracing shameless self-promotion. (Cue the guilt and laugh track.)

Is art any good if it isn’t seen or enjoyed? I wrote a book, and if no one reads it, is it any good? If I take a photo and no one sees it, is it shit?

This is why I’m here now. I’m torn between not caring about your opinions and sharing proudly—“I wrote a book!” It’s like the quantum observer effect: observation changes things. You see what I’ve done, and it alters my state. If you don’t observe, I’m still creating, just differently.

Plus, I’m still sharing photos of my son and occasional jokes I find amusing. Recently, some of my politics did leak out. Even my dismay with the world can only take so many face palms.

Why Facebook? It’s a tool. If I could afford to pay someone to run it, I would.

Then I would only need that person's validation.

Look, follow me or not. Support me or don’t. I really do need it, but I’m not going to twist your arms or knickers for it. The one person I need to believe in me already does. Everything else? That’s just noise.

"Mmm, this book is infectious."

—Dono, April 8, 2026