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Emily Blunt Rants on and on...Play Nice or I'll Defriendster Your Ass!
an emily blunt rant

 

 



Pop culture is weird... many seemingly sane people get hooked, sport silly fashions, use awful expressions in daily talk, call a pebble a pet and even give tons of private information freely away in the name of "belonging" or worse - being "in." Shudder.

Friendster.com is this profile based cyber dwelling that lurks upon the net. It's quickly growing into yet another web induced pop iconism…and subsequently a person that is "deFriendstered" is almost the equivelent to being outcast of the hamlet with a scarlet letter of "L" for loser stitched upon their favorite Paul Frank shirt's stylish shoulder.

Trend de Jour is Friendster.com. It's a people connection "service" that allows you to post a profile, photo(s) invite your friends and meet new people through the friends' friends by interconnecting you all. The idea being it's safer to meet or date within a six degrees arena then a Joe or Jenn Blow off the street scenerio - and let's face it cyber date services are riddled with too many snorfing one eyed drooling hand masters that can pen a positive profile and Photoshop like a professional animator at Disney! Not that I know - but from what I have heard…

Ultimately Friendster.com is very much like high school where the most "popular" kids volley to be a kind of Friendster Queen or King of the Web by soliciting for "people" among their peers to add to their profile.

They seem to be seeking self-approval by adding as many souls, err, "friends" to their giddy self-loving ego boosting profiles as possible. And as we all seek approval from the hipsters (me neither but for the story lets pretend we wanted, nay, needed to a part of that Darwinian world) you immediately conform and pony up all your vitals via your keyboard.

If you join you too start to write, what Friendster's navigation calls, "testimonials" and "recommend" friends to friends as directed by the site's cyberlords. You're almost not in control of your own will any longer as the need to be accepted becomes overwhelming and the judemental eyes of these invisible - ever present - cyberlords and fellow Friendsters glare - mocking you and your paultry 12 friends - from your 22 inch flat screen plasma monitor. Who cares if you really know every one if them! It's not about friends. It's about the numbers damn it!

Meanwhile the clock strikes 300am as your eyes ache and your dogs beg for attention - NO - you're busy feverishly trying to add as many friends as possible - less someone think you're not actually popular; you contact old boyfriends, high school friends, college roommates' tutors, your cousin's exgirlfriend's stepson that you shared a cab with one year. Heck, even the old lady you cut off at the light and exchanged emails with for insurance purposes is fair game -- you can walk her through the sign up process -- it's all about the numbers...

And I know I'd much rather be typing all night then throw a swell soiree and invite these filthy germ ridden human types to gather in person - face to face for - oh I don't know…conversation?

It's a "free" service that has more restrictions and rules then a Nun's Sunday Tearoom! And oddly, the ads that pop up within my profiles reflect my very own interests…now how'd they do that?!

The Friendster.com owner sits in his plush Malibu estate - fingers steepled eyebrow erect in financial awe - waiting for the right moment...Free. Ahem. I can see where this little goldmine is heading in about six months; once the drones are addicted and have assimilated into the unit.

Already there's at least three techy stories in print about the CEO's plans for a monthly maintenance fee. He has has everyone's home address, private email, birthday, hobbies, films - etc etc…See where I am going? And now my already spam filled mail box now just bellows a chorus of "Spam, Spam Spam" by Monty Pyton everytime I open it! Hmm.

I have a friend who is a rather popular "Friendster" with count 'em 240 "Friendsters" on his profile. He really knows three - okay - four. Another friend - who's a self proclaimed Friendster addict - has made up a new language for "messaging" amongst the community. It's blatantly obvious; crackSTER - a person who is always on the community's web; F*ckSTER - a person who de-Friendstered you from their profile; FraudSTER - a person who lies (say it aint so) on their profile.

I joined, naturally. I lasted a whole seventy-two hours. But, my friends started to message me there - not in my own email…and there was enormous pressure to add more friends and scribe testimonials. And being a baby Friendster I suddenly had all these swanky invites and blatant briberies from friends, half-friends, strangers, and outright enemies to join their profiles.

One gal whom I have not spoken to in months, actually started to semi cyber stalk me! Upon joining (within sixty seconds) I received an immediate request to "Friendster" to her profile - which I promptly deleted believing I should actually be a friend with a Friendster to rsvp. But she continued - another message - then email. We actually had a face-to-face blow up and defriended ourselves in the good old fashion "Fine!" - silence - followed by, "Fine." Then a telltale friendship ending, "You suck!!!" long ago. A good old-fashioned cyberless defriending in its most traditional form; the way our ancestors and their Mayflower dragging ancestors did before them.

So what's the plus side of this tree house of cyberworld connections that hordes your data and seems to sell your email? Loveship. An out-of-state friend I know (in the real-world) met a handsome manly man - even visited him - and has started a long distance friendship based on mutual smittdom. They use the telephone (albeit a cell phone with picture forwarding and satellite fed stock reports...) and everything!

Naturally, she met him perusing photos and hobbies and NOT through an established "Friendster." But I suppose it is still slightly better then the on-line dating horrors or an in-person friend induced blind date from hell.

Maybe I'll rejoin after all.

 

 

 

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