The Impostors

I joined social media in my thirties. Back then, social media was still a new, exciting frontier. Sort of like outer space except no zero-gravity toilets.

In the early days, I used Facebook to communicate with friends. I reconnected with schoolmates and marveled at how everyone had gotten old except me.

Your deepest interaction with social media was sitting at a keyboard and tapping out something clever, or important, then hitting “Publish.” Posting important stuff was the whole point of social media.

Sometimes, I would spend hours just thinking up devastatingly important sentences, such as: “Due to inflation, the FDA says you may now eat food which has been on the floor for 8.9 seconds.”

These sentences were posted as “status updates.” Back then, your statuses were a kind of headline to the people within your inner circle.

“Today, I had math finals…” “This morning, I’m gonna ask her to marry me…” “I have a nasal polyp.”

But then, inevitably, your family members started joining social media. People such as your aunt Eulah, who has a life-threatening humor disability. The same aunt who cannot visit a restaurant without developing a strong need to speak to the manager. Suddenly, this aunt could comment on everything you posted.

YOUR STATUS: Ugggh! Going to a job interview is the worst thing EVER!

AUNT EULAH: What about cancer?

Social media became a normal part of our lives. We were using social media all the time. Even in public.

Then, along came the era when people started taking pictures of their meals. This was followed by the era of mandatory family photos wherein everyone wore matching outfits for each major holiday, including Easter, Christmas, and the onset of daylight saving time.

This was briefly followed by the era of memes, when nobody actually posted anything, we just shared memes of Gene Wilder.

Then came the era of the ice-bucket challenge, which tested the patience of our nation. One day we were all normal human beings; the next day we were all dumping buckets of ice onto our loved ones.

The bucket challenge—for those who are from Jupiter—occurred in 2014 when Americans were given a choice to either donate to ALS research, or make a video dumping ice water on themselves. This caused a staggering 17 million Americans to bravely step up to the plate and choose the ice water.

That said, social media was fun. It was a nice diversion. Then it started to change. Somewhere along the way, hackers began cloning accounts. These accounts are often called “impostor accounts,” “bots,” or “sock puppet accounts.”

These are just fake profiles, operated by real people who, if they had real jobs, would be earning six-figure salaries working in prestigious IT departments but instead live in their mom’s basement and never change their underpants.

Impostors send private messages to users, expressing a strong desire for an intimate relationship that will be gratifying for both parties involved and, hopefully, someday, result in exchanging financial information.

The reason I am writing this is because there are impostors out there claiming to be me. They use my photos. They reprint my words. I often report these phony accounts, and I am always helpfully told by authorities, “Your call is important to us, please stay on the line and…”

So nothing is ever done about these impostors. Each day, new accounts pop up, posing as me. They harass people. These fictitious persons often initiate inappropriate relationships, attempt to steal money from unsuspecting victims, and worse, they use pore grammer.

Thus, I am writing this to serve as a warning to anyone reading. Do not be taken by an impostor. Heed my advice. Do not trust anyone who looks like me.