Your Dirty Windows

The on-set of FaceBook, MySpace, SpaceBalls, BallBook, MyFaceOnBalls, BallFace, BallSpace, and CuteOverload.org all funnels into the same market of the 'net now known as "Social Media." We decide, choose, and connect how we wanna connect. You can't force somebody to be your friend on the 'net. There's no booze, no coke, no lingering feelings of parental neglect. No immediate pay-off to a relationship. So superficial. So 2009.

I wanna be your on-line friend, so I can stalk you from afar, and you can see how fat I got after Senior Year. Which, if I had to do over again, I would skip WAY more often. The schooling, not the fatness. Wow. My kids are skipping whether they like it or not. I'll force my kids to skip HOME Schooling and go hang at the local alternative high for crap's sake. FOR CRAP'S SAKE, MARC, YER TAKIN' THE PISS! Now, as people carry on posting pictures of their lives, we get a peek into what's important to them. And it varies up the scale of age.

Family and Married People post pics of their kids. If I want somebody to see my kids, I'll hold my kid over the balcony, thank you. But DAMN, my family and friends put out some really cute kids (NIECES PIECES RILEY!). Okay, fine. Now the "internet public is clamoring for more of the Obama's Daughters!" Bigger than Miley Cyrus!?!?! Not at WalMart! Not yet...

Single people post pictures of places they got drunk, taken while they were drunk in those places. Bathing suits on the hotties. Self-pics. Double-fisting (that oughtta get some hits). LOTS of hugs.

Anybody still in high school, emotionally anyway, posts pics they take of theyselves and they friends and they partying in a car, throwin' finger signs and being awesome. What-what? No. No.

So, now that we have a billboard unto the world to tell 'em all what we're about? We have unparalleled access and capability to say "CHECK ME OUT." And while people become their own paparazzi, I'm just not seeing much that's exciting enough to tune back in for. And THAT banality is exactly what is so intriguing!

Please, keep doing what you're doing, and posting the photographic evidence of your life. Someday, we'll look back and remember how great you could have been, until you came down with autophotoluciopia... Blindness caused by taking pictures of yourself because you don't have any actual friends to snap one for you, fart-saver.


Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

No, Not In My MySpace Space

Ty Willingham is a ridiculous tiny coach and should be fired.

Well, they finally did it to themselves.

More Money and Power make people more of who they really are. If you're a little paranoid about a little power and money, a lot will drive you further behind the fortress of cereal boxes you built at breakfast. You'd be alone, mind you, as paranoia's accusatory onslaught carries all the charm of a mosquito buzzing in your ear while your grandmother screams "HUH? HUH?" and you repeat your answer until she asks ANOTHER question, and all you can think of is how you can't wait to fake-Gay-Out yourself into banishment and away from this lovely - but stone deaf - woman's underbaked hams. You suffer because, dag-nabbit, they DESERVE your attention. And cards played right, you're getting the LP collection upon her passing, now 19 years overdue.

MySpace, a FOX/Murdoch-owned entity, has created a way to simultaneously look Safe AND Paranoid. If you have a Space account and tried to log in this morning you may have been greeted with a Verification window. It's an application that generates random numbers and letters in varied order and linear formation so that you have to take a typing test in order to log in and see who called you Gay. Or Republican.

You know that first time you did a mountain of cocaine and then over the next few months you were Super Positive that the monkey in the rhododendron was, in fact, a CIA operative? And then, to make sure she couldn't get in when you were gone, you stopped leaving the house? And THEN, to make sure she couldn't get in when you were home, you duct-taped the doors shut? Well that's what MySpace did.

Instead of investing in security WITHIN the network, they threw up a giant snorfling gate and said "TRY TO CROSS." And no matter what combo you entered, whether is was Correct, Right, or Perfect, you and your desire to be looked-at wasn't getting in. And I thought to myself:

"Well, they finally did it. They went ahead and hit critical mass of management, and locked us all out. Awesome." I was happy about it. It wasn't like having a withdrawal, no shakes or bugs. Just a feeling of relief that they'd put themselves out of our misery. MySpace, for all it's influence and ability to connect people, is really now aimed at people younger than myself, hornier than myself, and drunker than myself. FINE, that's why I'm getting more into FaceBook, anyway.

So, soon I'll dump the MySpace Account, as soon as I figure out the FaceBook a bit more. And when I do, you will all follow me to FaceBook.
Why?
What are you looking for? What do I have that you need?
Before you say another word, you'll need to know my secret phrase.

Which is?

"GET UNDER THE COFFEE TABLE, THE GRIDDLE IS HOT"

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad