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Let’s talk about Facebook, everybody. Please have a seat.

People are here because they care about you and they want you to know that they’re concerned for your well-being. This is what a Facebook intervention may look like; and, judging by the profusion of glowing blue screens that you’ll see when waltzing up and down the aisles of the celebrity squares at the Uni library, its about time! Well, not to bail out so early, but Facebook addiction is probably too dense a problem to solve in this column, so let’s put the small minority of addicts aside. More importantly, Facebook has become so permeated within our social culture, that it could be beneficial to look at what you can do to protect yourself from its digital claws.
Clearly, there are a few things that you should know and do to keep yourself as far away from marketing databases, stalkers, con-artists, and identity pirates (it’s more romantic than identity thieves) as humanly possible. First, don’t show your freakin’ birthday. That’s hacker gold. Second, if your password is password1 then slap yourself with at least 60 percent strength. If you’re looking at this going ‘ha,’ or maybe even being so bold as to ‘haha’, feel free, but sadly I actually know someone that does this! Third (wow we’re getting through this quick), privacy settings are not just for hermits; well, they sort of are, but a few tweaked ones can’t hurt. Fourth, apparently search engines and information gatherers are rife in the system – and while it’s a little Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory that your status update about going to see Robin Hood tonight may be giving away info to a copious amount of marketing entities, it’s something that a few people think is probably happening. Finally, just as a personal aside that has little to do with security, some status updates need not be said. Now we know what Jessica had for breakfast, what Tammy did after going to the gym, and whether the Kit-Kat Amanda just bought from the store was chunky or regular. 
It’s getting a little sad. 
So, with these things in mind you can look up at your lecturer, back at the Critic, then up to your Facebook profile on your open laptop, and try to both expunge a few noxious Facebook habits and do what you can to avoid some third-world con agency using your identity to buy 1600 copies of Desperate Housewives Season One for the black market!