(Untitled)

[auraphage]

It occurs to me now that the name "MySpace" is a complete con.

Rarely before have I felt less mental privacy online. If anything... this is My Space.

Comments

[exhumite]

Well, not a complete misnomer. I mean, its MySpace. Not YourSpace.

Now the thing about it being a place for friends. That's a fucking lie. Its a cheap bar with no bouncer for meeting for meating.

[horizonline]

pahhaha... meating. ahhahah

[auraphage]

Well, not a complete misnomer. I mean, its MySpace. Not YourSpace.

Yeah, good point. It's really Rupert Murdoch's party, but we're all invited, and there's an open soft drink bar.

[auraphage]

Ok, maybe I'm misinterpreting. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. It could be that, in this case, "My" is being used in a kind of transcendental, transpersonal sense: that of The Collective I. It's all love and we're all one. Mi casa, su casa. That kind of thing. Yeah, that makes sense... like "Sure, come over, bring your friends, let's party, yeah, you can turn off what I had playing and put on your iPod, man, whatever, it's all good in MY hood! Yeah, throw on some Marvel superhero movies, they're MY favorite! I mean, who am I to tell you what to do? It's My house as much as it is Mine!"

[horizonline]

it's true. it's like having a webcam in your underpants. All . day.

[auraphage]

Or like having five televisions, three radios, and your cell phone going all at once.

[auraphage]

While flipping through three pop culture magazines, Rolling Stone, and a porno.

[horizonline]

all of them acting like someone put a poorly animated billboard up your ass.