Apocalypse.com

"Woe to you, Oh Earth and Sea, for the Devil sends the beast with wrath, because he knows the time is short...Let him who hath understanding reckon the website of the beast for it is a human-made website, its URL is www.myspace.com."

- Gospel According to Dim

What the flying fuck is up with My Space? I can't believe how much it has exploded in popularity...so much so that when someone does something dumb and it's reported on the news, these reporters and the police scour the perp's My Space page for clues! Before we had McGruff. Now we have friggin My Space. You've got to be kidding me.

Even moreso than blogs, My Space is a masturbatory wankfest of the highest degree. Nothing screams, "I didn't get enough attention from my parents" more than a My Space page. Look. I really don't give a shit what your favorite color is. I don't care what bands you like. I find it significantly less-than-interesting that you refer to yourself as "Escalor the Great" and quite a bit more disturbing that strangers call you that even though it's a completely retarded name. I really couldn't give a crapping ass what you look like and I couldn't be bothered to look all the virtual "friends" you have. I have friends too. Difference is, I have beers with them. I don't post their fake pictures on the internet and then go "chat" with them about how much my Dungeons and Dragons character kicks amazing amounts of troll ass.

First of all, my problem with My Space is that is complete and utter sensory overload. You go on someone's page and you are immediately greeted by scrolling or blinking text THIS BIG. Music immediately starts blaring with no warning at all and it ALWAYS sucks. Always.

There's text to the left, text in the middle, test to the right. Photos galore. Pulsating shit here, animated dancing fucking bananas there. I immediately have a seizure. I don't count having tiny brain hemmorhages among my most pleasant website-visiting experiences.

Then, you have the usual wackos that have My Space pages. Not everyone who has a My Space page is a wacko mind you, so if you don't think you are a wacko, don't get your knickers in a twist over this. But without further delay, here are the wackos:

The first is the poor, young, naive kid. This kid is just looking for someone else who still likes *NSYNC, unicorns, and Rainbow Brite. Favorite colors always include deep cuts from the Crayola box of 64, like "magenta", "periwinkle", and, of course, "turquoise". They tend to pepper their bio with a lot of LOLs. Like "Last summer, my family vacationed in San Francisco. LOL." Because we all know that vacationing in Cali induces maniacal and spontaneous laughter at oneself.

Among their friends are a bunch of similarly-named other kids like "Ashley" and "Josh". Oh, and Gary Glitter too.

Their naivite really shines through in their photo, though. They are not yet of the age to realize what real artsy photography is. That is, they don't experiment with sepia or purposefully blurry shots. Their shots are blurry because they don't know how to use the camera. And they actually face the camera and smile. In fact, it looks like they are incredibly excited to take their picture! They look like this...only they usually have braces.

Next up are the musicians and shit be damned, there are a TON of them.

They don't bother listing favorite colors because their list of their favorite bands (with their band name listed first, natch) takes up the entire left side of the page and contains musical acts that you have never heard of before. All of whom are listed as "influences", yet this person claims to have a sound all their own. When you reach the My Space page of a musician, you are rudely greeted by a sonic blast of their "original" garbage. This, without fail, sounds like shit. Crappily recorded, crappily produced, crappily played, crappily sung (or growled, if it is hardcore).

At the top of a page is a missive about how the only important thing is for them to "play what they feel" and "what is in their heart" and "to be true to the music" and "to respect the muse" while "parlaying my love of the mixolydian scale."

Yet, the sound blaring from your computer sounds like it was bleated through every orifice of Jabba the Hutt. No melody. No harmony. Lyrics suck. Music sucks. Good job, there, Rock Star.

They are usually well coiffed, yet insist on cultivating facial hair that went out of style around the same time as the last good Pearl Jam disc. Their photo is an attempt at showing how dangerous a musical force they are while still having the sensitivity to hug their instrument:

Their friends, amazingly, are all of their favorite bands that you have never heard of as well as other solo musicians with pictures of them humping their various instruments: guitar, bass, keyboards, drums, mike stands, piccolos...

Then you have the goths. There are two kinds. The non-threatening depressing goths and the punk goths who would like nothing better than to shove their jackboot up your ass.

The depressing goths list their favorites bands as:

Bauhaus

Even though nobody listens to Bauhaus anymore.

Their favorite color is either "black" or "none".

They have a lot of piercings and have skin tone that suggests that their life's blood has been eaten by Vlad the Impaler. The music that plays on their page is Bauhaus, of course, and they themselves list as hobbies, "staring at my shoes" and "wondering why the world is a terrible place". They post really bad Morrissey-esque poetry, too.

Their friends look just like them. I mean, EXACTLY. And the depressed guy goths are out looking for chicks that look like the Suicide Girls. Come on, what fun-loving gal wouldn't want to go out with a guy who is afraid to look at a camera:

Now, the punk goths are a whole different animal and list their favorite bands as:

The Misfits

Even though no one listens to the Misfits anymore. They like leather, tattoos, and stomping on people.

Their friends all have tattooed bald heads, black eyes, unhealable physical scars (while the depressed goth's scars are all psychological) and other hematomas.

Their own picture shows that they actually want to eat the camera, and you, while they are at it:

Then, you have the guys who like Eminem, firing buckshot at squirrels, collecting non-functioning methods of transportation, particularly trucks and 4-wheelers, backyard wrestling, and drinking. They also think the Icy Hot Stuntaz weren't frontin',

Their favorite color is "huh?" and they seem to have trouble keeping steady employment.

They have no friends listed, because none of their friends can afford a computer.

They also bear a striking resemblance to Kevin Federline and like posing in unflattering attire while showing off some kind of bottle and giving "the finger":

Finally, you have the geeks. They tend to like Don Henley a lot. Despite what they say, they aren't just interested in finding other people who really like the Pythagorean Theorem. They are looking to get laid. If the girl happens to also like the Pythagorean Theorem, well...they just hit the lottery.

They also don't have any friends, because they are all too busy off playing Doom and watching Deep Space Nine to create a My Space page.

The geek's picture is pretty much what you would expect:

Which explains why he is so desperate to get laid. Maybe changing his My Space music from "Heart of the Matter" to something by Bauhaus might be a good way to start.

Do yourself a favor. Don't open a My Space page. Hell hounds are comin'...and that's the first place they're gonna look.

Oh, and special thanks to Xteen for her artistic direction, taking the photos, and, uh, applying my makeup.

- Dim.