by Vivian Luu
Copy Editor

and Spencer Weinbender
Staff Writer

While intellectual and spiritual development is highly desirable in the beautiful SCC community, it has come to our attention that some individuals are preventing themselves from becoming “better than the average Joe.” (No offense to any Joes or Josephinas out there.)

As we grow irritated over the non-personable use of e-mail as a means of communication, MySpace has taken it to the next level.

The website has drastically reduced the phone call to an old friend to casually see how they’re doing to the habitual mini-blog-like comment.

A “Hello (insert friend’s name here), how’s it going?” followed by a lengthy, spontaneous conversation has been replaced with a short “Wut up, Homie G?”

And speaking of tacky gangster talk, there’s the interesting proposition that the Internet is a medium that one can use to express him/herself in an entirely new light.

Our response?

BULL.

Changing from a socially withdrawn turtle to a hardcore ladies’ man or men’s lady is neither reinvention nor rejuvenation— it’s the act of transforming oneself into a lame poser.

Who has the time to build a webpage past middle school, let alone update it every week? Beefing up MySpace pages is a waste of one’s youth, beauty and time. Ladies, the countless hours you spend typing in gibberish could be spent at your local Caffe Laddro, chatting it up with good-looking baristas that advocate organic, free trade products.

Men, the same applies to you… but you could consider replacing the coffee shop with Northgate Mall and the dandy company with some clean, muscle- flaunting shirts.

We also believe in privacy. You know, one of the chief reasons to why public bathrooms have stalls and people wear clothing.

There are many opportunities for MySpace members to display their most personal information on their pages—from their height, relative weight and sexual orientation to the number of tattoos they have on their right arm and whether they prefer Coke or Pepsi.

Although disclosing such information may seem impersonal and harmless at first, it can come with dire consequences. But in spite of the fact that the stories of young children’s photos getting exploited, the ominous warnings of severe corruption are neglected. Thus emerges perverts’ art of shamelessly attacking ignorant minors with their ridiculously twisted fetishes.

“But what about the bands and businesses?” you may ask. Well, allow us to introduce you to the concept of a website. Real entrepreneurs take the time to uncloak their goods through a series of streamlined, well-designed web pages, which emanate an aura of professionalism that amateurs are often incapable of accomplishing.

Putting this much power into one company is also bothering the hell out of us. Is there going to be an Internet in 10 years, or is it just going to be a dull, endless sea of random profiles? Rupert Murdoch, the proprietor of MySpace, can stick his dreams of virtual domination up his altruistic sex socket.

MySpace is an endless train of ridiculous absurdities. The entity sucks our bones dry of our genuine attempt to develop healthy, meaningful, stalkingless relationships. It subjects us to an omnipotent company that constantly lurks behind our shoulders, watching us live in this fast-paced world.

Now if that doesn’t sound stalker-like to you, we suggest that you try to get out more. Stroll around some dark alleys in the sketchy parts of Seattle at night and you’ll get what we mean in no time…

That is, if you make it out alive.