Mass stupidity has a new name, and it is called MySpace. Or Facebook?or any of the other mindless concoctions embraced by college-aged students yearning for meaning, acceptance and attention.
Their lives, of course, are defined by such important issues as: What Disney character is your alter ego? What piercing are you? What mythological creature are you? What literary character are you? What color is your heart?
No, I’m not making these up.
Or something especially repugnant, such as: What song from Fall Out Boy are you?
This is the kind of crap people spend their time on these days, and it is reaching dangerously depressing levels. Millions of man-hours are being wasted right now, as we speak. The MySpace phenomenon is the brainchild of this mysterious “Tom” character, who may or may not be the anti-Christ.
One way or another, he has spawned a congregation of brainwashed followers, and his service is eating away at their minds one personality quiz and blog entry at a time. I weep for the human condition.
My theory is that MySpace subscribers are actually vampires. Or zombies, I can’t decide. Either way, it’s the walking undead we’re talking about here.
Just think about it: You don’t just join MySpace?you have to go out and get others to join you. In fact, you must do it. You need to recruit them in order to sustain life?however pitiful those lives may be. After all, if you don’t bring others along with you, how will you fulfill your need to be loved?
Thankfully, there are some who have yet to be converted, though no doubt most of them have been solicited by a so-called “friend.” Some of you may have even considered taking the plunge. Let me make things a bit easier by asking you a few simple questions: What is your most over-used IM phrase? Do you like thunderstorms? In the past month, have you eaten an entire box of Oreos? Heart! Smiley face! Wink! LOL!
If these are the kinds of inquiries that intrigue your intellectual side, then MySpace is definitely for you.
If, however, such pettiness isn’t for you, then you’re on the right track — don’t let yourself be drawn into this theater of mass triviality and brainlessness. I beg of you. Be one of the few.
I’ve done a bit of research on MySpace — and trust me, I’ve only gotten more turned off — and I won’t lie: I’ve gotten a few jollies from the site, primarily from some unspeakably offensive photos one can find from time to time. But mostly, I just find it embarrassing. People tell friends and strangers alike their interests and their secrets and, yes, even their (bad) poetry. They fret about who is in their “Top 8.” (Pick me, pick me! Love me! Love me!)
The site’s tagline is “A place for friends.” Not to mention stalkers, voyeurs and losers with no lives, many of whom may not have any real friends of their own.
The need to define oneself has taken a turn for the worst. Cyber stupidity has hit its peak, it seems.
Of course, I can already hear the cries from the gallery, defending their precious MySpace accounts to the death. But I get to keep in touch with my friends! But I get to meet tons of exciting and friendly new people! It’s super-fun, LOL!
You could claim that because I’m driven by my personal preference to remain as anonymous and unknown as possible, I’m only saying this because I’m misanthropic and anti-social, that perhaps this bold anti-MySpace declaration is merely a stealthy bid to further alienate myself from all the people my age of whom I am so wary.
That Bellamy kid, you say to yourselves-he is going to be a miserable old man.
And you could have a point. Or, you could just be saying that because “Tom” — if that’s his real name — wants you to say it. Riddle me this, my naysayers: Since you joined MySpace, have your lives become more fulfilled? Is that dark hole in your heart filled with warmth and fuzziness? Are you self-actualized? Are you happy people now?
Passing trend or no, MySpace is a sickness, and it is infecting those around me and the ones I love. Like “The Blob,” it seems it can’t be stopped. But we must. Stop it, that is. The truth is that MySpace is just another artifact of our increasingly cold, detached, impersonal, emotionally severed culture. Look, I’m as emotionally severed as they come, but even I have to draw the line somewhere. And in the choice between life and cyber-life, I choose life.