ZZZZZZZ
Richard Roeper, that lucky schmuck, today decided to write about MyDeathSpace.com. As usual, Ritchie is a little late. Hell, my sources told me about it a good while back and it was reported here instantly, as I recognized its importance as not only a bizarre antidote to the MySpace reign of terror, but also as a grim reminder of the clock’s constant ticking, time’s winged chariot, insert your favorite death metaphor here. Though the ceaseless profiles of dead young folk on MyDeathSpace can be frightening, even weirder are their actual MySpace pages that continue with a little help from the living. Profiles once laden with the typical inane comments about loving the movie Pretty Woman and hangin’ with the posse now sport the eerie “MISS U GRRRL!” comments that can only come from bereaved teenagers. Creepy. Anyone who says MyDeathSpace is morbid ought to take a closer look at MySpace sometime.
I joke, but MyDeathSpace is infinitely more interesting than MySpace. The sad facts of these deaths are considerably more entertaining (spiked with a little bit of healthy guilt) than pouring through the silly photos of bad T & A and banal hipster doggerel. MySpace is all about presenting yourself in the best light so you can make fake friends you’ll never really meet and possibly get laid. Or promote whatever it is you do (ahem…). It’s similar to the blogosphere (which, though I am here, I am constantly critical of) only worse because it is predicated on the idea of community, which, given its domain, strikes me as sad. I like emailing friends and staying touch when the schedule allows, but cyberspace is more about information and distraction, not about meeting people. At least not to me. I have a few E-pen pals (for lack of a better term) but to put my picture up on MySpace and beg for friends seems depressing in a way I am not prepared to manage.
Conversely, MyDeathSpace is about shattering the image. They all look so hip and cool, or geeky cool, or goth cool, or whatever. But they all end up dead. Reading about the brunette who died from overdrinking and snorting nose candy is interesting enough, but when coupled with her happy, bright smiling picture it becomes chilling. Innocence lost right before our eyes. Wow… that’s worth checking out.
The sad truth is that people are so fucking dull when they put on their best face and so much more interesting in their ugly defeat. Or, less cynically, people are so fucking dull when they put on their best face and so much more interesting when their imperfections and quirks are revealed. The imperfections and contradictions make us human. I prefer human reality to cyber illusion. Okay, so maybe reading about their meth habits and drunk driving sprees is an extreme way of getting to the truth behind the manufactured, but it sure beats reading about their mundane likes and dislikes. And it is probably more interesting than reading someone ranting about nothing of grand importance.
Yeah… [gulp] bye.
I joke, but MyDeathSpace is infinitely more interesting than MySpace. The sad facts of these deaths are considerably more entertaining (spiked with a little bit of healthy guilt) than pouring through the silly photos of bad T & A and banal hipster doggerel. MySpace is all about presenting yourself in the best light so you can make fake friends you’ll never really meet and possibly get laid. Or promote whatever it is you do (ahem…). It’s similar to the blogosphere (which, though I am here, I am constantly critical of) only worse because it is predicated on the idea of community, which, given its domain, strikes me as sad. I like emailing friends and staying touch when the schedule allows, but cyberspace is more about information and distraction, not about meeting people. At least not to me. I have a few E-pen pals (for lack of a better term) but to put my picture up on MySpace and beg for friends seems depressing in a way I am not prepared to manage.
Conversely, MyDeathSpace is about shattering the image. They all look so hip and cool, or geeky cool, or goth cool, or whatever. But they all end up dead. Reading about the brunette who died from overdrinking and snorting nose candy is interesting enough, but when coupled with her happy, bright smiling picture it becomes chilling. Innocence lost right before our eyes. Wow… that’s worth checking out.
The sad truth is that people are so fucking dull when they put on their best face and so much more interesting in their ugly defeat. Or, less cynically, people are so fucking dull when they put on their best face and so much more interesting when their imperfections and quirks are revealed. The imperfections and contradictions make us human. I prefer human reality to cyber illusion. Okay, so maybe reading about their meth habits and drunk driving sprees is an extreme way of getting to the truth behind the manufactured, but it sure beats reading about their mundane likes and dislikes. And it is probably more interesting than reading someone ranting about nothing of grand importance.
Yeah… [gulp] bye.
posted by ZombieDante at 1:44 PM
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