The Case Against MySpace

Or: I Said, GET OFF MY LAWN, You Pesky Rugrats

Hey, kids?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Stop lying about your age on MySpace, OK? And quit posting those naked photos of yourselves already; it's tacky, and I'm telling you this for the sake of decency.

While I'm at it? Let's not forget that the Internet is still a public domain, so no matter how many times you write "Don't Tell My (Parents/Teachers/Anyone Else) HEHEHE" on your blog entries, or how many times you decide to delete your entries, the world will still know you wrote it anyway. There's a reason why search functions and the Wayback Machine exist in the first place. Ask Uncle Greg to teach you how to write your own secred-password entries, or don't write it in your blog. Better yet, get your own freaking notebook, because at least you can hide that in your sock drawer and you'll get less spam from nasty pervs living across the country that way. Do I have to show you how to make a scrapbook?

Trust me, it's better than having somebody snatch you off the street and putting your parents through so much heartache. And it's cheaper than suing the blog service for not protecting you in the first place.

And don't look at me like I don't know what I'm talking about. I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't go through this myself. No, I didn't get stalked by a perv, but I did a lot of tacky things that ended up online, and... let's just say that my family was not happy. But I'm alive, aren't I? That's why I try to edit these posts like a fiend before I post them; you'd be surprised about what doesn't end up getting published in the first place.

Repeat after me: MySpace is not a private space. MySpace is not a dumping space. I will not use MySpace to post anything that I will regret for the rest of my life.

There you go. Now, where did I put my afghan?