Yo, fuck MySpace. No, really, fuck that shit.

Why, you ask? Do I really even need to explain it, Jackson?

OK, for starters, it’s the Internet for morons, similar to what AOL once was and basically still is. Essentially, MySpace is the new AOL, or AOL Junior, if you will. Just a big ‘ol sandbox with four walls, a ceiling and a floor in the infinite void that is the Internet. Why play in the sandbox when you can play in the INFINITE ABYSS?

When people start talking about their oh, so waaaaaacky adventures in MySpace land, it’s just as pathetic as the person that tells you their e-mail is whatever@aol.com. I’ll give a pass to all the Baby Boomers and elderly that still use AOL, but if you’re under 35, you should just know better.

The same goes for MySpace, it’s pathetic really.

Playing on MySpace is like being one of those people that has to wear a helmet around wherever they go. You know, like John Olerud. They can’t handle real life, so we just put them in the sandbox and hope they don’t start eating the sand and shitting themselves. But, I’m sure some of you insist on it, so, hey, why not have fun playing with the other A-Tards in there, just hope you don’t get sand thrown in your eyes.

It just dumbfounds me as to how people get so obsessed with this stupid, simpleton site. WOW, you can post pictures and comments! What a revelation! You can keep in touch with people that you really don’t want to keep in touch with anymore! Amazing!

Although things may soon change because of the Net Neutrality issue that unfortunately no one knows or cares about (look it up, junior), the Internet is a breeding ground for innovation. Up to this point, it is a place where anything goes and anything is possible. Whatever you want to know about is at the tips of your fingertips. But when you fall into the clutches of MySpace, you become trapped in this very limiting box, one to which there is no escape. You’re just another drone joining the masses.

I should know, I was there.

Yeah, I had a MySpace account, and I also had a facebook account. They are both worthless and now they’re both gone from my life. I’ll admit, it was fun at first finding people I hadn’t talked to in years, but then I remembered there was a reason that I didn’t talk to some of these people in years. I really didn’t like them in the first place!

And it’s not like you actually talk to them anyway. You just post a line of text with various misspellings underneath some creepy picture. That’s it. You’re “conversing” with a stationary picture. It’s the Internet equivalent to spitting in the faux asshole of a blow up doll. Wow, what good times. And 97 percent of the posts on MySpace are juiced up frat boys typing out how “sexy” some chick is with one hand while he beats off with the other. Then he fixes his blowout with the same hand! That’s nasty dude!

I mean, do you really want to take part in that?! Do you get it yet? Aside from New Jersey Guido, the preferred Internet destination for blowout heads is MySpace. Prove me wrong. If your IQ is equivalent to that of a mossy, rotted out log in the forest, MySpace is definitely your thang. And I bet you have a pretty “layout” with shiny shit and “Bratz” all over the place. What the FUCK are Bratz anyway? Is that what kids are fucking playing with these days? If you see someone walking around Toys R’ Us with No. 2 pencils jammed in his eyes, it’s me.

And do I even have to talk about the Top 8? People legitimately get upset about placement in these things. If you’re one of these people, slather yourself in honey and go jump in the Grizzly Bear cage at the Bronx Zoo. Please, do society just one favor in your pitiful existence.

What's with everyone saying that "you have to get a MySpace, dude"? Why, so creepy fucks can keep tabs on what I do with my life? It's bad enough that anyone can reach you at any time thanks to the cell phone, but now we have to be tracked online too? Fuck that man, I like to live my life off the grid as much as possible. I'd rather that weird kid that moved away in ninth grade not know where I am right at this very moment. He might want to pay me back for putting the french dressing on his seat, if you know what I'm saying.

OK, now is where I am forced to get into the semantics of the situation. Yeah, yeah, I know I post a lot on the ZubazPants.com forum. But here’s the fucking hitch, Cochise, I (with the help of many others) created that shit. I jumped in the void and created my own obscure corner of the Internet. It’s different than being a cog in a DEATH MACHINE owned by NEWS CORP, the same company that pays Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity.

Yeah, chew on that for a bit, Howdy Doody. Some of you may be happy with that (fuck you, if that’s the case), and some may not give a shit, but I know, I KNOW, that that just rocked a few people’s worlds. But whatever, go chill with your Fox News Imperial Empire.

Also, MySpace is responsible for a lot of shit going down as of late. It may be indirectly, but hey baby, that’s what manslaughter is for. In the school shooting that took place in Colorado recently, the killer found his victims via MySpace. Now, obviously MySpace isn’t the only one that takes the blame here, but they certainly should take some. The goddamn site has become a directory for murderers and pederasts. That’s a quote they should put on the main page.

And then there is the upcoming film, Epic Movie. I don’t know how yet, but I am sure that MySpace is directly responsible for this abomination.

So, yeah, FUCK MySpace.

I got out … will YOU? Lord save our souls.

Author’s Note:

Sure, I may be BLOWING THINGS OUT OF PROPORTION, but that’s the point of writing, Jackson. I’m not some sissy that’s playing just to draw a goddamn walk. I’m swinging for the motherfucking fences and I ain’t gonna apologize for it. So, if MySpace is a major facet of you’re life, and there’s a tear rolling down your eye like the Indian dude in that old “don’t litter” commercial, well … I’m sorry.

Of course I’m not sorry, I really don’t give a shit what you think. In the words of Tatsu from TMNT: The Movie, “Go … play.”

PEACE!

Questions or Comments? E-mail Jim at BuffaloByrne@gmail.com