A Myspace Bulletin is NOT the Answer

My kindergarten flame had her soul broken recently. I don't know what the fuck happened because I haven't read her new Myspace blog. But I did read the fucking bulletin announcing it.

I skimmed through the other six she sent out too.

Myspace bulletins are the internet equivalent of that little shit at the public pool with the permanent Kool-Aid lips who keeps asking his mother to watch his cannonballs.

New pics!
New background!
New song!
New survey I spent 20+ minutes on!

Look, look, look!

We are a generation of attention whores. Nothing matters unless other people confirm that it matters.

In bubbly, glittery letters.

Like my kindergarten flame, we rely too much on others -- on our "gurlz" -- to massage our egos and assuage our grief. We're self-important. We actually think people give a fuck that our favorite color is green, or black if you're gothic or have a similar, cutting-edge style and/or personality.

It's like calling somebody over to admire the bits of corn and threads of protein in a monster shit you just took.

Impressive to you, maybe, but it didn't come from my asshole so why should I give half a fuck? I shouldn't. And I don't. Nobody does. Yet you receive comments.

Why?

Because those people want comments in return. There are no selfless comments on Myspace. No genuine concern. "Just saying hey" is code for "I still want to fuck you. Write back and acknowledge my existence."

The more comments you have, the more page views you have. The more page views you have, the more bulletins you've sent out.

Unless you're somebody like Dane Cook. Then your comments are proportionate to how famous you got from yelling.

All of this amounts to greater self-esteem. You've cultivated a persona that people pretend to care about on the internet. It doesn't matter that your coworkers think you're a fucking disgusting slob that smells like ass.

In real life you're 300 lbs. On Myspace you're a BBW with a fanbase consisting of thuggish black guys who say "ma" a lot and bald, forty-something white guys who weigh less than your labia. They worship the rolodex that is your stomach and they'd eat a mile of your shit just to get to your ass.

You're a celebrity. So why not share everything with them that pertains to you?

Newsflash: If you have 30 - 60 minutes to kill and you opt to fill out a jumbo fucking survey then you're not worth reading about, regardless of how much you THINK are.

Sorry, shithead.

Here's a short, to-the-point list of the bulletins I hate the most:

6. wut would u do 2 me if we were alone

If I mention autoerotic asphyxiation will you be freaked out?

5. repost 2 see who looks at ur profile!!!!!

Right. Because if I catch a hot chick looking at my profile I can jerk off to her pictures thinking that maybe she's into me. And then the nut is that much thicker.

4. OMG! this is soooooo saddd!!!

Some dude gives his girlfriend a fucking rose and dies or a note that says "i cant live without u" after they break-up and dies and if I don't repost this shit then I'm fucked in love for the next ten years. If I repost, my crush will tell me how much she loves me at school tomorrow...

3. cleaning house

If I don't repost this I'm going to be deleted from a friend of a friend's "Friends List". OK... then why the fuck did you add me in the first place?

2. myspace is shutting down!!!

Sign this petition and Tom won't throw away millions of dollars in potential ad revenue because he listens to people who matter in this world, like Mike from Iowa and Tiffy from Florida.

1. do u no ur number 3?

If I want to know more about the third person in your Top 8 -- "Dreamin of U", that ugly chick with the trite e-pout that she thinks makes her look good -- I'll befriend that bitch on my own terms.

Let's use some fucking discretion, OK?

Go drink some Kool-Aid and give the cannonballs a rest.