PRAGMATIC ISSUES

If you’ve ever thought, “I wish Facebook had more tattling and fewer friends,” then congratulations you’ve already downloaded Nextdoor, the worst social media app in existence.

Nextdoor isn’t really a platform but rather it is a 24/7 neighborhood HOA meeting that you sadly cannot escape. A place where Becky tells Susie that her “Karen haircut” looks like it was shaped with a salad bowl, while a fake profile named “Mike with the broken leg” asks for gas money and “free diapers” only to flip the haul on Craigslist by morning.

Local Report: The Nextdoor app has once again secured its title as the most cursed platform on Earth, edging out Facebook Marketplace scams and your aunt’s political rants.

Residents say the app is “like an HOA meeting, but with more racism and less coffee.”

Other apps give you escapism and cat videos, memes, travel reels. Nextdoor, well it gives you Jerry from two streets over demanding to know why the garbage truck came at 6:01 instead of 6:00 and asking why his car got towed on a designated street cleaning day. And then thirty replies later, the thread has devolved into personal insults, citations of HOA bylaws, and a heated debate about whether raccoons are government drones.

The Scam Economy

Meanwhile, fake profiles run amok. They beg for “help with groceries” and post inspirational sob stories, but you’ll find the “donations” listed on Craigslist faster than you can spell “handout.” Try to report them, and guess what? Nextdoor bans you for “harassment.” Because apparently, outing a scammer is a bigger crime than being one.

Dozens of suspicious accounts continue to thrive. “Single dad, out of work, please help with baby formula” was posted Tuesday by ‘Marcus P.,’ who later that night listed three unopened cans of Similac on Craigslist for $50 each.

Attempts to report the scam resulted in the reporter’s account being suspended for “bullying,” while Marcus earned a “Good Neighbor” badge for “community engagement.”

Nextdoor’s moderators are like mall cops with a God complex. They’ll shut you down for reporting fraud, but happily let threads flourish where neighbors warn each other about speed traps or even where ICE agents are parked. That’s right folks post “Free zucchini, front porch!” and it’ll get flagged for “suspicious activity.” Post “Cops hiding on 17th with radar guns,” and suddenly you’re a community hero.

Nextdoor’s “Selective Morality” Policy

App moderators have clarified their rules as listed below:

• Not Allowed, Reporting fake profiles.
• Allowed, reporting speed traps, ICE agents, or that one neighbor who has the audacity to park in front of your house.
• Encouraged, passive-aggressive comments about garbage can placement.

Experts Weigh In

Sociologists at the University of Colorado have classified Nextdoor as “the digital manifestation of neighborly hell,” comparing it to “a cul-de-sac in Dante’s Inferno.”

Dr. Alicia Moran explained:

“Other social media apps make you hate strangers. Nextdoor makes you hate the people who literally share your fence.”

As one user posted this morning, “Nextdoor isn’t social media, it’s a war crime.”

City officials are reportedly considering designating Nextdoor a public nuisance, alongside abandoned shopping carts, the Papa John’s at Downing and the Fax and feral geese.

Nextdoor is the digital equivalent of nosy neighbors peering out the blinds, except now they’re armed with bad grammar and unchecked rage. It’s not “bringing communities together.” It’s weaponizing gossip, monetizing pity, and making you wish you lived in a cabin where Wi-Fi signals can’t reach.

If social media apps are family members, Instagram is the vain cousin, Twitter/X is the drunk uncle, TikTok is the hyper younger sibling and Nextdoor is the cranky neighbor who calls the cops when your shadow crosses their lawn.

Honestly, maybe the app’s slogan should be “Nextdoor where your neighbors are worse than strangers.”