CNF 50
The Enshittification of Meta / The Anniversary Season
Platform decay. Enshittification. Meta isn’t getting any better.
Even with a verified (paid) account, trying to get Meta to change my birthday back to October 6th, 1975, has wasted countless hours of support emails and futile attempts at shaking my phone for the “good” support option (yes, that’s actually how you get ‘heard’ by the company). So, I gave up.
My birthday has historically been my ‘best day’ of the year on Facebook. I used to thank everyone individually for every “Happy Birthday, Clay 🎉” post—sometimes replying to 500-800 messages yearly.
On February 18, 2025, I received 145 “Happy Birthday, Clays.” Maybe (just maybe) I once set a social media client’s account to be ‘born’ on February 18th, 1999. Now, Meta insists I am 26 years old. I started working in the music industry in 2001. Not a bad year. Except for, you know, the big thing.
Meta says I can’t change my birthday because I’ve ‘changed it too many times.’ But did I? Did I mention that they have a copy of my driver's license and my birth certificate to get verified?
Cool.
Despite posting twice that yesterday was not my birthday, I still received well-meaning birthday wishes. Not the well-wishers’ fault! Everyone got a notification, and according to the ‘masculine energy’ of Mark Zuckerberg, I am now perpetually 26. Did I mention I paid for my blue check? And that the companies I work for spend thousands of dollars advertising on the platform every year? Doesn’t he know who I think I am? What about the twenty years of popularity this year?
2005 was twenty years ago…let that sink in!
So, what can I do about it?
Nothing. Or nothing anymore.
Fuck it. I’ll leave it be. I’ll celebrate my milestones somewhere this year. I already deleted Twitter/X. My work ties me to Meta in ways I can’t fully untangle—at least not yet. Meta is getting worse. Every app is getting worse.
Enshittification.
We’re the product, you see. Those punk rock songs were right.
I did, however, kick off my “26th” year in 2025 with a great show at Arts at The Armory. Huge thanks to all the performers and everyone who braved one of the most brutal weather nights of this unending, unforgiving winter!
We had comedy, burlesque, spoken word, beers (not me), coffee, tea, and whoopie pies! I’m so proud of everyone. And I’m proud of myself.
Stacey (my partner and a performer in the Variety Show) tells it like it is. Though raised in Massachusetts, she doesn’t have the same Pilgrim DNA as mine. We Mayflower descendants (part of my act you missed!) tend to pussyfoot around issues to avoid offending people. Maybe it’s a British Isles holdover. Also, we push our feelings down deep, like a kitchen trash compactor. Not healthy! But that’s how we were raised.
Stacey, who I think was drawn to my stunning good looks and so many comic book podcasting bona fides, also thinks I’m funny. Not “funny how?” funny—just funny. Though she does have to endure my constant TV/movie commentary, which usually ends with “Shut the fuck up!” “Will you shut up?” “Shhh,” or “Quiet.” She’s got her zingers, some of which have made me spit out my fried chicken.
She is (as a human being in her own right) under no obligation to make me feel good about my ‘standup debut.’ If I bombed, she’d have found a gentle way to let me know—like, “Oh, I liked that one joke.”
But, like Mikey, she liked it. She told me I did great. And honestly, that’s the only feedback I needed. No pussyfooting, so I know she meant it.
My set wasn’t perfect, but I recorded the show and am confident enough to share some clips here—should you demand it!
This was the show's first iteration, and while there were some flaws, we have a fantastic space and solid notes for next time. Progress, not perfection!
I had a great time on stage. Honestly, I’ve wanted to do standup since I was a kid. It’s not easy, but for me, it isn’t hard (humblebrag). I have no public speaking fear, a Spoken Word degree (standup without actual jokes?), and years as a frontman for multiple bands. The stage doesn’t scare me. Having family in the audience, though? Terrifying. But that’s OK.
I’ll do it again. Or at least I have a few minutes ready should my job require me to host a show. My set was a little long—I need to work on pacing and writing—but I’m happy to say my first set is done.
Special thanks to Commander
on Substack for being the “Ultimate Dursin,” handling tech and doors! And, of course, thank you to Steph Dalwin, Jeannie Martini, Duncan Wilder Johnson, Devastasia, and DJ Panda for bringing the heat! And to the Arts at The Armory staff! See you when you visit, Andrew! Best of luck in Jersey!Until next time (and yes, there will be a next time).
In youthfulness,
Clay N. Ferno
