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Entry: Professional E-Friends Tuesday, June 12, 2007



A couple months ago, I read an article about a man who compiled lists of deceased myspace users and uploaded their information onto his personal website. Supposedly it was the largest (and most likely only) collection of teen-angst poetry on the planet (that was bad, I admit it. Sorry.)  I think it's called mydeadspace or something, but a quick Google search yielded little more than a handful of Grateful Dead fan sites. It sounded pretty cool and counter-culturish at the time, and now that I have an account, it feels all the more so. When I come to an end, where will my words rot? I have these wild, Kubrick-ish visions of giant monitors over my casket flashing images of all my many "e-friends" like the workings of a ghostly Rolodex.

 

Last Friday I was forced (yes, forced) to open a myspace account by the powers that be at work because they felt it offered an opportunity for members to communicate openly and bounce ideas off staff in less restrictive environment and a more ambient atmosphere.

 

Ambient. Atmosphere.

 

I suppose that makes sense...Literally speaking….

 

Myspace would, to quote one board of director, "foster a free exchange of ideas, encourage professional interplay and augment our value as an institution" In essence, folks could bounce ideas, any ideas, no matter how fantastic, off me and I could get started banging my head against in the wall. Clearly, additional stress alone wasn't enough to compensate for my raise.  

 

Cynical? Noooo. Since starting the damn thing last week, I've received no less than six invitations from people who presumably are not myspace-created androids, asking to be my friend. (This is bullshit of course, as my page consists of little more than my name, age and organization I work for, leading me to believe that they are in fact little more than binary automatons designed solely for purposes of selling you things.) Each of them, it should be noted, are busty blondes with low-cut shirts and raccoon-eye makeup jobs. Great. Exactly the sort of woman I'm least attracted to. Thanks, myspace!

 

So anyway, it's for work, so as much as I know it's killing you, I will not divulge the URL. Ummm..actually, I don't even know the URL. Not a clue. Does anyone know how figure out what their myspace URL is?

 

I ask the all the 8 year-olds out there who know this stuff much better than me. How's it work, kids? Tell me quick. There's a army of ones and zeros simply dying to meet me.

 

 

To Persephone:

 

Happy Birthday.

 

Love,

 Hades (I guess)

   2 comments

J f Z
June 13, 2007   08:46 AM PDT
 
I concur. Myspace is the deathstar of the evil empire. Blogdrive is the rebel alliance. Don't turn to the dark side ... fight the evil.
Daveman
June 13, 2007   07:33 AM PDT
 
**comes out in cheap T-Shirt.., stuffed bra, blond wig and raccoon eye makeup**
"Lesbee-yun friends?" - LOL

AHEM - I have no clue about MySpace. I stays away from it. Thar be sumthin inherently evile about it. Maybe its them raccoon-eyed bimbos selling make enhancement products or perhaps its them MySpace people who's name (like elvis) when spelled backerds means NATAS! (Stan for short)

Or it could be anything. I think mainly because I have to sign up just to be able to comment on other people's blogs.

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