As one who skews towards misanthropy, it’s a wonder I’m on teh MySpace at all. But since everyone and their mother has an account, I’m sort of obliged to keep mine active, at least to get the bulletin updates. That said, I hate Myspace. I hate its janky interface. I hate that it’s a giant, digital billboard for advertisers (Transformers is opening July 4th, in case you missed that). And I really, really hate all the buxom vixens who end up in my inbox. Cause, really ladies, as dewy and come hither as you appear, DO NOT WANT!!1!11!
Sadly, back in ye olden days of my internet usage, I was a huge Friendster addict. I would actively recruit friends to site like I’d drunk the Kool-Aid, lambasting the ones who hadn’t joined for being so behind the times. Ha! I’d use the Friendster to find old friends, keep track of new ones, and even indulge in a little cyberstalking — I’m not proud. Also, celebrity friends. Is that really Parker Posey? Who knows! Add her.
Back then, everyone I knew on the east coast was on Friendster, and all my friends in Los Angeles were extolling the virtues of this upstart MySpace, which, when I first signed up, seemed peopled only by horny, barely clothed and barely legal kids looking for a quick hook up and the occasional band or whatnot. My how the times have changed. Sort of. The pendulum swung in favor of MySpace (I’m sure being purchased by nefarious Australian newsmonger Rupert Murdoch didn’t hurt ) and Friendster hemorrhaged users.
So, I grudgingly devoted my energy to MySpace, where I’ve subsequently been tracked down by more “old friends” than I would’ve cared to remember. I drew the line at signing up for Facebook.
Cut to, well, now, with everyone’s goddamn band, sketch comedy act, whatever is using Myspace to pimp their product, along with spammers and their nubile online concubines. In the last week, two of my friends accounts have been haxored (Bulletin: OMG! Olive Garden Coupon. Click here!) and then I get this message in my inbox, subject “Hi!!”.
I squint at the picture (I can’t find my bifocals) and wonder, do I know this chick? She looks like any of the slightly chubby, kind of nerdy girls I attended high school with, and like I said, weird people come out of the virtual woodwork to contact you on the interwebs.
But Naw! The accompanying message says it all:
Whats up? Hi There. I’m promoting my best friend Brooke and trying to get her as many friends as possible. I know this is random but She deserves it. ;) Click On her pic to add her or reply back to me and let me know what you think. Thanks!!
She’s the decoy for this little networking nymphette.
Poor Holly’s account gets hacked so Brooke can add more virtual fingerbangers to her growing coterie of admirers, and maybe they’ll click on her real website where they’ll have the pleasure of paying for some more pics of her and where, maybe, fingers x’ed, she’ll even be in flagrante. Ugh!
Oh internets, what happened to your promise?
Disclaimer: I know this whole argument has been done to death, but if it didn’t still irritate me, what kind of curmudgeon would I be?