An Open Letter to Mark Zuckerberg

Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,

Congratulations! You did it! You finally got me to sign up for Facebook. But then again, you probably knew I would, eventually. After all, you’ve made it just about impossible to get ahead in today’s society without being a member of the website in which you launched ten years ago. I used to oppose all forms of social networking. Hell, up until three months ago, I didn’t even have Internet in my home. But then I wrote a book, and in order to promote my book, I started a blog, and in order to promote my blog, I tried to post comments on various websites, and that’s where the problems started. In order to post comments on various websites, one must have a Facebook account. MUST. I thought about creating a fake account, like so many people do, but seeing that my website and blog are called jonpenfold.com, it wasn’t going to take a genius to figure out who was making the comments. So I signed up for Facebook, as myself, as Jon Penfold—one more new member to add to your growing tally. Congratulations!

I’m not disappointed. On the contrary, I will gleefully admit that I’ve actually enjoyed my first week on your website. Because of Facebook I have been able to reconnect with people from so many different parts of my life—ranging from long lost childhood friends, to recently lost adult friends. There are people from the crowds that I “ran” with back in the day; some of them figuratively, as in, “we ran into a bit of trouble together;” and others, literally, as in, “we ran on the high school cross country team together.” There are people I haven’t seen in years, from Boy Scouts and wrestling and rugby, and others—from my bike team—that I just saw yesterday. Then there are the people I consider my family, some related, and some not. I thank you for helping me get in touch with all of these people. Just to think, a few decades ago, none of this would have been possible—long lost friends would remain just that, long lost.

I will admit that I was very apprehensive to sign up for Facebook. In fact, it took me quite a few alcoholic drinks to find the courage to do it. I’m not quite sure what I was afraid of. I guess it was probably the conspiracy theorist inside of me. Letting you into my life was not an easy thing to do. Now you know a lot about me—who my friends are, what sports teams I like, etc.—and you’ll surely use this information to try and sell me things. But I’m ok with that, because I’m probably not going to buy that stuff anyhow. To be perfectly honest, you’re wasting your time. And plus, with all the news lately about the NSA spying on us, you probably already knew everything about me anyway. The way I see it, it’s the ones that aren’t on Facebook that you really need to keep a careful eye on. Seriously, if you’re not on Facebook, what are you hiding?

So, Mr. Zuckerberg, since I joined your website, I think it would only be fair that you subscribed to my blog. I think you would enjoy it. It’s about “Finding Adventure in Everyday Life.” In the past I’ve blogged about mountain biking, and float tanks, and going gluten-free-free—things that ordinary people with ordinary incomes can do. It’s that simple. I would even consider joining Facebook to be an adventure. Sure, it’s a digital adventure, but an adventure nonetheless. In fact, this letter I’m currently writing to you is going to be this week’s blog.

And since I’m giving your website so much face time on my blog, I just have to ask if you’d be interested in investing in it. How about it? I know you’ve come across a bit of disposable income in the past few years. I can help you dispose of it. I think a million dollars would be a good start. I know what you’re thinking: a million dollars, are you crazy? But just hear me out. A million dollars is such a small percentage of your net worth, it would be like me giving a bum on the street about a nickel. Actually, if you took into account how much money I still owe on my student loans, it would be like me taking that nickel back from that bum, and then stealing his bottles and cans, and his shopping cart (which I don’t believe he actually owns), and his clothes—leaving him with nothing but a cardboard sign that says “God Bless.”

You’re still wondering why you should give me a million dollars. Let’s not use the word “give.” Let’s say “sponsor.” Of course, you’d have to share space on my jersey with my other sponsors, but maybe we can work something else out. A tattoo, perhaps? I would consider a Facebook tattoo as part of our sponsorship deal. But not on my face. Or my neck. Or my hands, or arms, or chest, or back. That could kill any future career I may have in modeling. I would do a Facebook tattoo on my ass though. But I know what you’re thinking: who would see it? If you only knew how many times I’ve been naked in public. Or, if you don’t like the tattoo idea, maybe I could sign over the rights to my book The Road and the River: An American Adventure to your website. It could be the first ever book published exclusively on Facebook.

I don’t need an answer right away. Take your time and mull it over. Come to think of it, why don’t you take a trip up to Portland, Oregon and see exactly what’s going on here at jonpenfold.com? Because I don’t own a car, I won’t be able to pick you up at the airport, but we have great public transit and I have a hideaway bed in my living room with your name on it. And while you’re here, we can adventure together. I have some big plans for the coming months, including snowboarding down Mount St. Helens, playing one-on-one basketball against a former professional player, and participating in the World Naked Bike Ride—where you can see firsthand how that tattoo idea will come into play.

I really hope you have the opportunity to read this letter Mr. Zuckerberg. Even if you decide against sponsoring me, please let me know if you get this. If anything, it will be a great social experiment to see just how powerful Facebook really is. If that six-degree of separation thing really is true, then it’s possible that one of my friends will read this, and then share it with another friend, who will share it with another, right on down the line, until it eventually gets in your hands. And if you do decide to sponsor jonpenfold.com, we’ll gladly accept. Hope to hear from you soon. You know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Jon Penfold
jonpenfold.com