Archive | 3:26 pm

Kyle & Art vs. Facebook & “Terms of Use”

17 Jul

Tuesday, I posted two pictures to facebook and was notified this morning that one of them had been removed because it violated terms of use. Although they couldn’t tell me which picture it was, through simple process of elimination, I was able to find out which picture was in violation.

Facebook gave me no explicit explanation for the warning. They just sent me a link to the “Photo” section of the “Terms of Use” page. This is what the “Terms of Use” says:

Photos are removed if they contain nudity, drug use or other obscene content. If the photo attacks another individual or group, it will be removed as well.

That’s pretty fair. But let me ask. If this photo got removed:

Innocent fun.

Innocent fun.

Then why didn’t this picture get removed?


Angela Frayre ≠ Angela Fuehrer

I desired more of an explanation than I had been given. I was confused. I was confused. So, I decided to get a hold of facebook itself so I could better understand its terms of use.

Below is the series of e-mails between facebook creator Mike Zuckerburg and I.



Hey Mark! Hey. Thanks for the site. It’s been a great tool for letting people know how funny/handsome I am. But hey, recently I got a picture removed from the site (I’ve attached it to the e-mail) and was wondering why. Earlier that day I’d put up an arguably more insulting picture and received no rebuke. What’s up? If you could let me know as soon as possible, I’d really appreciate it. You have six hours.




Your picture was reported as offensive and was reviewed by our team and deemed in violation as per the guidelines of our terms of use. Please be more cognizant of others when you post media on your profile.

Six hours until what?


Mark Zuckerburg

Six hours later, I was standing in front of facebook’s headquarters in Palo Alto, California. The building is modern and slick-looking. I bet if it were a human, it’d be such a prick. I look it up and down and roll my eyes big enough for it to see (I have no idea where the building’s eyes are. For this reason, I walk to three or four different spots along its perimeter and do the same thing.).

I enter the building. I walk up to the elevator and look over the office listings. “402, M. Zuckerburg.” Let’s do this.

The elevator is typical, it only goes up and down. There’s a guy in there when I open the door.

“Good afternoon.” He says.

“Good afternoon.” I cover my mouth so I don’t catch his liberal California attitudes. The rest of our ride is spent in a stifling, conservative, right-wing silence.

I reach the fourth floor and begin my hunt for Suckerburg’s office. The space is separated by mottled glass walls that reach about 3/4 way to the ceiling. The rafters above are exposed Oak. Damn it, this building is cool. I try to bring it down a “cool” notch by taping my autographed picture of Screech onto the wall. I remove it from my wallet and place it gently on the wall. I kiss my first two fingers, holding them to my lips, then pressing them to Screech’s. “You are my most beautiful. I love you. May you find a brighter desti–”

“Can I help you?” A young, petite woman asks me.

“Yes, I’d like to be left alone while I’m saying goodbye to my friend here.” I nod towards Screech. I have yet to remove my fingers.


I never called him Dustin. That's not his name. His name is Screech.

“I–” She laughs uncomfortably. I simply stand and nod again towards Screech. She huffs a bit and walks away.

I finish my goodbye and continue my search. Damn it, I’m lost. I run up to the woman and ask her directions. She points to her immediate left. In gold letters, on large double doors reads “His Lordship, Z.” This is weird.

“This is weird.” I say. Her face goes ghostly pale. She smiles a smile that looks more like a mask of a smile than a smile itself.

“He’ll have to buzz you in.” I think of making a Bee Movie joke, but decide against it, in case I need her to validate my parking later.

The intercom above us rang out in a voice so clear it was as if the voice was not from a speaker but the man himself.

“Send him in, dear.” It was Fuckyerbird.

“Cool.” I say. “Time to kick some ass.” I approach the door and the girl grabs me by my arm.

“Have a good meeting.” Her eyes wide and fearful, enunciating each word, giving it it’s own space amongst the others in the sentence. I nod politely. She’s probably on her period or something.

I open the door and walk in. The room is mostly empty. The rear wall completely made of glass. The drapes have been pulled and the room is full of an eerie, artificial twilight. Suckyercock is standing with his back to me next to a large desk. There is a picture on it in a frame. It’s my picture of Screech. I have no idea how it ended up in here. A chill runs up my spine as I imagine the horrors that Screech has had to endure on my behalf. There’s no time to quarrel over this now, however. I must stay on course.

“Why did you take down my devil picture, Zuckerburg?” I ask.

“I told you already, old friend. I–”

“Let me stop you right there. We aren’t friends.”

“No. You have to send me a friend request first.” He looks at me stupidly. “Go ahead,” I say.

He sighs deeply. “OK. Mark Zuckerburg would like to be your friend on facebook! Accept or Decline.”

“Decline.” I say. A moment of black, abysmal silence.



“You CAN’T!”

“I can.”

He began to seem frantic, his eyes darting around the room. “Mark Zuckerburg has poked you. Poke back or remove?!” His eyes were filling with tears.

“Remove.” I take a step forward. Zuckerburg stumbles back and falls to his knees.

“M…M-M-Mark Zuckerburg has sent you some f-f-flair.” His voice is weaker now, afraid.

“Ignore ALL REQUESTS FROM THIS USER!” A gust of wind ran through the room, as if the entire building was exhaling.

“NO! NO! PLEASE!” Zuckerburg is crumbling before me. I’ve won. The sun began to glow brighter.

I stand over him, fire in my eyes. “PLEASE REMOVE THIS USER FROM MY NEWS FEED!”

Zuckerburg begins to thrash about wildly. After a few moments he lay completely still, completely silent. I take out his wallet. I get $38 and a Kroger’s plus card.

“I guess my account won’t be disabled then, eh?”

“No…p-p-please…just go…” He says feebly.

Before I leave, I reach across Zuckerburg’s desk and take back my picture of Screech. This building is uncool enough now without him. I walk to the door and before I leave, look back at the broken man on the floor beneath me, curled into himself like a giant infant. For a moment I actually pity him. I then lift my left foot and fart loudly. It smells badly and I shake my head. “Oh, boo boo smell.”

“Go now. You’re free,” I say to the young girl in the hallway. She looks elated. She unshackles herself (Where did those come from?) and begins to skip down the hall.”Hey, wait!” I yell. “Can you validate my parking?”

“Yes,” she said.

And all was right.

And all was good.

The End.

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