Note from Becky: This post marks 600 posts on the Weaving Influence blog. Yes, 600! I started blogging at in December of 2010, although the 600 posts published here also include several from my days blogging at LeaderTalk, with dates reaching back to April 2009. Since I often coach clients about blogging, I am feeling the weight of these 600 posts. I think, by now, I can safely say I know a bit about blogging. I’ll own that.

Here’s the welcome post I wrote to kick off Here’s the most read post – it’s the most read because it is candy for Google, apparently. This one, the 2nd most read, is appropriate for today – ideas about how to celebrate social media milestones. Later this week, I’ll share a few lessons about blogging I learned from writing 600 posts. For today, though, let’s celebrate.

How am I celebrating? As a small thank you, I am giving away all my e-book resources for free. Go to and enter the code 600FREE. Grab whatever you want. My most read resource is 31 Days of Twitter Tips, so if you aren’t sure what to choose, choose that. And tell your friends, please? 

I just downloaded FREE resources from @beckyrbnsn to celebrate 600 blog posts. Visit and use the code 600FREE. Tweet Now!

This post, however, is not my writing. Instead, it comes from the guy we call Mr. Becky on this blog, my husband. This blog and my business would not exist without his support, but he is not a fan of social media channels himself, especially Facebook. Read more to find out why.

Season 3 of The Twilight Zone (1961) featured the story of a six-year-old boy named Anthony Fremont who appeared to be like any other child, but who had godlike powers. This episode was so popular and well-known that I remember to this day how Anthony terrorized his family and community, with not only his powers to change the world at his whim, but also to read people’s thoughts. It all culminated with Anthony reading his father’s mind and turning him into a jack-in-the-box, to everyone’s alarm.

Imagine the horror of living in a world where every thought was broadcast. Your secrets known, your dirt on display, all that is hidden uncovered. Consider what life would be like if your neighbors could hear every fight with your spouse or were aware of each time your children misbehaved. What if friends knew your stupid mishaps and received notice on their smartphone of your every fault?

Welcome to Facebook.

I carry a healthy loathing for Facebook and its ridiculous displays of immaturity and inanity. A favorite website of mine is, which chronicles the absurdities of people who freely tell the world their secret vices, arguments, and countless childish blunders with cries of “look how foolish I am.”

Remember the days when your folks said, “Let’s not fight here in public”? Now every fight is open and searchable. If a person wasn’t book smart, there used to be ways of hiding it. Facebook has a remedy for that: get in a heated argument with some idiot who claims that the sun is a star. Back in the day, Walmart was the only place to catch the exploits of unruly children and incompetent parenting. Any more, if you missed the empty threats to “take you outside and paint your back porch red” Mom has graciously posted every detail of today’s Mountain Dew-infused meltdown.

I’m not as smart as I try to convince people I am. I’m not as nice as I let others believe. There is a short list of 44,000 humiliating stories, any of which would keep me from ever showing my face in public. Somewhere in our house is a shoe box of embarrassing pictures that needs to remain in a shoe box.

I find that not looking like a clown is a full time job for me. That’s why I don’t have a Facebook page.