Ah, the holidays. A time for overindulging in pudding, pretending to love fruitcake, and, for some, endless scrolling on Facebook. While others are enjoying beach trips or post-lunch naps, you’re doom-scrolling through Karen’s blurry Christmas tree photos and Uncle Barry’s conspiracy rants. But what if your Facebook feed wasn’t a digital soap opera? What if it actually brought you joy?

Imagine this festive fantasy. Every post is pure delight. Gone are the blurry snaps of turkey carcasses and burnt pavlovas. Instead, your feed is filled with golden retrievers in Santa hats, perfect sunsets, and someone’s grandma dancing to All I Want for Christmas Is You. No filters needed, just pure serotonin.

No “some people” posts. Those vague, passive-aggressive updates like “Some people really don’t understand the meaning of family 🙄”? They’d be replaced by helpful tips like “Here’s how to survive Christmas lunch without murdering a relative.”

Finally, advice we can all use.Got an event invite? Instead of the usual “Going” or “Maybe”, Facebook would offer honest RSVP options like: “Would rather poke my own eye out, but thanks.” or “Only attending for the free food.” No follow-ups, no guilt.

Resolution-free New Year’s Eve posts would become the new norm. Your friends would finally stop announcing their resolutions like they’re about to run for parliament. Instead of “This is the year I get fit and learn French!” your feed would be full of gems like: “My only goal for 2025 is to not embarrass myself by March.” or “Skipping the gym but saying bonjour to cheese.”

Ads would actually make sense. Forget creepy ones for lawnmowers just because you Googled “how to mow faster” once. Instead, Facebook would deliver the goods: “20% off noise-cancelling headphones for family BBQ survival.” or “A guide to saying no to Boxing Day cricket without starting World War III.”

No humblebrags allowed. Posts like “OMG, I’m so humbled to have been named Employee of the Year AGAIN 💪” would be intercepted by Facebook’s new “Get Over Yourself” algorithm. Rewrites would be required: “Look at me! Shower me with praise!”

Food crimes would be banned. Nobody could post a picture of their Christmas lunch unless it was Michelin-star worthy. Spaghetti bolognese on paper plates? Deleted. Grandma’s lopsided pudding? Adorable, but no, thank you.

Group chats would finally get an upgrade. Family threads would come with a “translate” button for cryptic messages from Aunt Betty and a “mute” option for Dad’s endless GIFs of penguins in Santa hats.

Travel photos would be smugness-free. Gone would be the endless “And we’re off!” airport lounge pictures. Your feed would now feature tasteful snaps of clear blue skies, captions like “Wish you were here!”, and zero shots of someone’s legs by the pool.

If Facebook could deliver this kind of scroll, the holidays might actually feel festive. Instead, we’re stuck with the annual marathon of bragging, oversharing, and arguments in the comments section.

But hey, at least there’s always the mute button, and a second helping of pudding.