Hey, Hey, My, MySpace

October 5, 2007 at 5:08 PM | Posted in Notes on Society | Leave a comment
  Everybody has a MySpace page, apparently.  It’s like it’s your right, your personal duty.  Life, liberty, and the pursuit of. . . dubious personal exploitation.
  So my GF (girlfriend, for those of you not in the know) tells me I *really* need one, because that’s how I can network with other comics, comedians, promoters, bookers, agents, and club owners.
  But she said nothing about pedophiles, perverts, and teenage girls with low self-esteem; I thought that was the whole point of MySpace.
  Resigned to my fate as a joiner, I relent. 
  And I discover that I already have a MySpace.  Oops.  Password?  How the fuck should I know?  I go through the loops, and whatdaya know!  I sure as shit do already have one.  I started it in January.  Of last year.  Stuff on the internet is like herpes; it never disappears completely.
  I allow Detroit access to it and let her fix it up for me.  Then, for the grand unveiling, I go to it.
  "Where is it?"
  "Saved under your favorites."
  "Which–oh."  I click on it, and expect to see a logical sounding name, like "MYSpace.This_is_complete_fucking_bullshit. com."  Instead, I see "myspace" followed by what looks like the VIN numbers to all the cars I’ve ever owned in one line.
  I had some questions.  "What is this bullshit?  What is my Myspace called?  How is anyone supposed to find it?  And what the fuck is all this ad space?  I can’t tell where my MySpace ends and MySpace MySpace crap begins!"
  "It’s there.  Look."  She shows me the rudimentary elements of navigating my MySpace.  The entire time, I experience difficulty, frustration, and fist-clenching anger.  In our den, we have our desks right next to each other, our PC’s bound by Cat6, holding wires, so we are right next to each other.  It’s romantic.  I have my monitor turned a little away from her so it’s less obvious when I look at porn.
  But at this point she is right next to me, listening to me as I curse every time I hit a link on my MySpace page.  "Fuck.  I didn’t want–Shit.  That doesn’t take me where I–   Fuck.  Okay, maybe–shit.  This is retarded!  Where’s the–Fuck.  Is that a goddamn ad?  What–Shit.  Can I–Fuck, no, of course not.  Stupid fucking…."
  So, I have a MySpace.  I’d give you the link, but on it I basically say to come check out *this* site.
  I have a fucking degree (albeit only a two-year associates’ degree) in goddamn computers, and I still can’t navigate the fucking MySpace!  And this is the blog of choice for people?  This is what the sweaty masses *want*?  On purpose?  It’s fucking stupid.  MSN may not be perfect, but it does what I want it to do. 
  I like to be able to write, and MSN seems more suited to that, honestly, than MySpace.  MySpace seems to cater to the people who write in IM style, short blurbs, and want to "meet people," or worse–"hook up."  For Christ’s sake, *why*?
  It’s like a party line phone call with video, text, and images.  And ads.  It was annoying in college 25 years ago when it was done because of rudimentary technology, and it’s vastly more annoying now that the technology has improved.  There is no end to the number of ways this can bug the piss out of me.

  But seriously, if you’re a cute 16 year old girl with low self esteem and "no one understands you", come check my MySpace.  You’ll be pleasantly creeped out.
 

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