Judging from the random, unsolicited posts that appear regularly on my social media feeds, those so-called geniuses at Facebook and Instagram are wrong if they think they have my number. Perhaps I once made the mistake of clicking on something that sparked my curiosity, but that doesn’t mean I am a devotee and need to see everything on the subject. I spend an inordinate amount of my valuable retirement time deleting, blocking, and otherwise banning them from my feed.

If you need to know anything about venomous snakes in the southern United States or eastern Canada, or the drug abuse situation in the Kensington area of Philadelphia, I’m your source! If you’re looking for a beautiful young lady from Bangkok to keep you company, I can hook you up. Should you care to browse the selection of nearly-naked streetwalkers plying their trade on Figueroa Street in Los Angeles, just let me know and I’ll send pictures your way. In fact, I have now become an expert on car crashes thanks to so many people posting from their live dashcams. Police arrests? Bad behaviour on airplanes? Shoplifting takedowns? Street pickpockets being outed in Italy and France? We already know the world’s a terrible place. You name it; I’m your contact for everything on destruction, death, and despair.

I also had to put a halt to the sites about dogs and cats rescued from neglect or abuse. Other than making regular donations to the Humane Society and leaving a nice chunk of money in my will to animal charities, there’s nothing more I can do to make the situation better.  I cannot under any circumstances watch those videos, as they give me nightmares and upset me for days.

The steady stream of recipes and cooking tips became so onerous, I had to pull the plug on all of them. I know they’re trying to shame me when I do not follow through and whip up gourmet concoctions for hubby. They always leave me feeling depressed and guilty, like I’m a bad wife. The only way to remedy that is to block anything related to cooking and baking. He’ll have to be satisfied with my boring crockpot creations, or whatever last-minute culinary surprise I can come up with at 6:00 p.m. that can be nuked in three minutes. He never complains because he knows better.

The social media gurus did manage to get a few things right. Keep feeding me pictures of cute Yorkies and videos of hilarious dog antics, though. I’m OK with that. And the toddler with “yipstick” smeared all over her face who claims she “buyed it at Home Depot”. I never get tired of that, and when I want a pick-me-up, I play that video on repeat. It never ceases to make me laugh out loud!

I also appreciate the regular updates on British shows that will be hitting Netflix or Britbox soon. My television is permanently set for “Captions On” so I can catch every single word of my favourite Britcoms and mysteries. I need to know what Sharon Horgan, Sarah Lancashire, Diane Morgan, James Norton, and other amazing British actors are working on at all times so I don’t miss a thing. Nobody does it better.

And, who doesn’t love the Walmart fashion follies, or seeing the sights shared by someone I don’t know as they stroll through the streets of Paris or Barcelona? The helpful feeds from dementia and Alzheimer’s support groups are great too, but sometimes they become a bit much, and I have to take a break—TMI.

The fashion feeds featuring classy European women, who show me how to look better than I already do, are always entertaining in a jokey way. So much fashion advice can be confusing, conflicting, and often just ridiculous, but it’s fun to watch. Sometimes they give me hope that I, too, might present myself the way I’ve always imagined, which is a comforting delusion.  I will try harder in future. Spoiler alert: Chanel ballet flats are not worth the money; they’re uncomfortable and will give you blisters—not that I could ever hope to afford them—just sayin’. Shoe manufacturers all have my address, and all author and book-related sites have permission to intrude on my day.

I also appreciate the sites that instruct me on how to properly clean the grout in my bathroom and how to remove stubborn stains from hubby’s gardening clothes. Who can fault them for trying? There’s also value in knowing how to get at those grimy tracks in my sliding windows. Who knows when Martha might drop by?

My friends will be reassured to know that I can probably safely distinguish between a poisonous Copperhead snake and a harmless Hognose. We have neither in Ontario but this knowledge might come in handy if we’re ever strolling the wetlands of Georgia together. And if any of my guy friends are going to Bangkok or Los Angeles and you’re looking for a good time, call me.

I know I spend far too much time mindlessly scrolling through garbage on social media, and I would dearly love to break the habit, but there is some good stuff there. Perhaps those algorithms do know me better than I thought—at least some of the time. What sites do you like and can recommend? Is there anything I’ve missed?