Monday, July 23, 2007
I do not get 'My Space'
I do not understand My Space. Oh, I understand what it is, but I just don't understand why it is. Okay, so maybe it is something a kid can be part of and share crap with their friends using that texting language they have created to mock the English language. But why is anyone over the age of 13 creating a My Space page? And why are businesses creating My Space pages?
So you will probably tell me it is a dating tool or a marketing tool to reach young people. And my response to both is that it is just wrong. There are so many avenues to create a Web page that doesn't require you to list your favorite books, music, astrological sign and slap it all together like a ransom note. I have yet to see a My Space page that doesn't make me think of a bad acid trip.
My Space also reminds me of the Jehovah Witnesses or Mormons. If you pop in to just look, they want you to join. And once you join, you join forever. Who knows, maybe someday My Space will be considered a religion. Bad as it is, at least Blogger offers the potential to be creative and share it without requiring people to join and sign on as your friend.
I guess I'm just cranky because a local transit agency just launched their own My Space page which is obviously targeted at the youth market. They even have their own You Tube video. So far they have 60 friends. What kind of geek becomes a friend on a transit My Space page? The pisser is that you can bet someone is going to pressure me to start up a My Space page for my agency. And I'll be forced to come up with this cutesy profile for our buses and trains.
I refuse. This monkey won't dance this time.
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Right after I started the blog for the Pottery Festival, they were bugging me to also do a My Space page...I thought it was only me that found that site a crazy cluster of nothingness.
You will also be aware that you can not comment there unless you are a member.....
My Space, should be No space, between the ears!
Just a place for pedophiles to roam free is how I see it.
Not that other places on the "world-wide interweb" are much better, but MySpace seems to just make it that much easier ...
like shooting fish in a barrel.
It reminds me of the early days of the Web. Everyone scrambled to have a Web page but very few knew why.
But space is the final frontier.
There's a song in that comment somewhere.
Maybe I'm missing something. Is the other transit agency a rival/competitor to your's? Or maybe just a different district?
Oh well, doesn't matter really. Whoever they are your myspace page will be tons better. What with all the photo shop and monkey's playing cymbals and everything
I loathe MySpace. As you know, I can't delete mine. Every now and then I get a "friend request" from my stupid page. I check it out just to make sure it's not someone from my past who has tracked me down. Most usually it's a noname band looking for free advertising space by befriending everyone on the net. I don't just "ignore" these invites; I actually "decline" them. It makes me feel a little self righteous.
I'm glad there is a MySpace. It gives all the no talent losers a place to hang out without clogging up blogger. What really pisses me off though is the fact that these myspacers actually think their site makes them "bloggers".
By the way, Employers are starting to research applicant's MySpace accounts looking for dirt.
All transit agencies are brothers, get it? We just don't like each other. But we are all in the same business. Get it?
We must accept our my space bretheren (don't trust the ignorant bastards). They are our friends ( don't trust them whatever you do)
When the order for a My Space page comes down the pipe I suggest posting a lot of police pictures of shootings, stabbings and other violence that occurs on public transit. Don't forget to throw in pictures of corpses (human or otherwise) run over by buses. Add photos of some stoner guy and a scantily clad female smoking pot at the bus stop. Have an "Overheard In Seattle" section penned by a crackhead. I guarantee the ridership numbers will swell.
Guess you didn't inherit the marketing gene from your uncle (or the "I want to keep my job" one either) :)
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