As my Twitter crew already know, I spent far too long today in Myspace, a foul and stinking land I visit rarely, clearing out junk and blamming spammers. No-name no-clue Myspace rappers and rotten shindie bands one expects, but why on earth Sway feels the need to try and post three messages on my comments section about his new single is beyond me. I banned his spamming ass anyway. POW!
There were a few nice messages in there, but I feel these people would be better served hanging out here, instead of lining Rupert Murdochs greasy pockets with ad-cash (they were trying to sell me tit-implants while I was in there, “make yourself amazing!” Fuck yourself weirdo!). I have been saying this for years, but seriously, I think I am going to have to delete my Myspace. Just as soon as the new ATD.com is live and has the sexy front page music section we’ll be set.
I never liked Myspace. Ugly rotten, decrepid, foul, stinking gateway to the Galaxy Of Wrong. I remember a billion years ago when it was all about Friendster – those were the days. Friendster was a nice, sweet, innocent hangout, where all you had a list of friends and a testimonial board, where people would write things like, “I remember Akira when he was Adam Alphabet and he used to make my cry with his beautiful columns for PlayLouder. Love you man!” Ah, back in the day before No Homo. Truly, this decade has been like fifteen of them. Anyway, one day people started leaving messages like, “Friendster’s old! Come with me to Myspace!” And lo, everybody starting migrating to Myspace because it was “edgier” and you could change your background picture. That and, word on the street was it was a crazy pick up joint. So I went over there to see what the fuss was about, and sure enough I was getting propositioned by bottle blonde heavy metal chicks with Daddy issues within the frickin’ hour. So I deleted my page and moved along, speedy like. A year or so later I had to open a new account, as I was making music, and it was deemed commercial suicide to not have one. I wish I’d never bothered, that thing has been nothing but a foul drain on my soul.
I never liked Facebook much either. The early days, with all the poking and lobbing of sheep were annoying enough, but when it turned into Friends Reunited it really got lame. “Hey Ads, long time, you make music now, that’s wicked, I got three kids and a divorce, how’s life?” How’s life? Didn’t you used to call me a faggot and throw chips at me in the cafeteria, durkhead? Fuck outta here with that bullcrap! Then there’s all the exes. Facebook is a minefield of exes. Exes with many, many babies, and mortgages to boot. I have moved house more times than I could count, but there is no getting way from one’s past anymore. 100×100 pixel reminders at every corner, as if my Tellytubby tattoo wasn’t enough already.
There was about a month a few years ago when Facebook was all about playing Scrabulous with people, which was fun while it lasted, but those days are long gone. However, they did finally get around to making a Social Network that doesn’t involve people demanding you “comment” on their “pix” that actually adds value to my life, and that is Twitter (tadah!), which, for now at least, I find useful, fun, and entertaining. Today it has given me a number of excellent articles to read, along with a brilliant Spotify Pet Shop Boys playlist by David Quantick. I have been returning the favour by edumacating his ass about screw music and what “bumping” a song means. He has in turn been passing that knowledge in to his people, and as I type, all around the world men and women are listening to the screw remix of Trae’s Swang, and that makes me happy.
So there you go.
PS, Yes, I was always too old for Bebo.