Guilty Pleasures #1: Picture Picking

One of my favorite things to do whilst surfing the web, aside from robbing a large variety of Death Metal musicians blind, is discovering a whole world of beautiful, disgusting, hilarious, depressing, and altogether emotive photographs.

Some are real, some are fake, and some, for lack of a better word, are pornographic, but they're all unique and each picture exemplifies how vast the internet is and how there are so many truly talented (and weird) people who have nothing better to do than upload a bunch of crazy crap.

Here are a few random pictures. Enjoy.

The Facebook Method of Burning Bridges

Imagine this:

You're walking down the street, yo-yo in hand, streamers in your hair, minding your own business when, out of the blue, an old friend, no, an old acquaintance emerges from the bushes and begins walking in your very direction. As the distance closes, you wind said yo-yo and prepare for a (hopefully) brief moment of banal conversation that's normally of the one-sided sort. Suddenly, the acquaintance peers up, and in sheepish fashion, immediately stares down, at the concrete, the gum, and the residue of bird shit that is unbearably, unstoppably interesting. In fact, these specks of bird shit are so amusing, each one lined after the other in parades of abstract art, that this old chum strolls right past you, leaving you, yo-yo and all, watching this person pick up pace and turn the corner in a flurry of relief.

Now, you ask yourself, why in God's name did he/she ask to be my Facebook friend?

It happens all the time. Someone asks to be your pal on a wildly famous social network like FB, you accept, and then, nothing. The mission is complete. They've snagged you, and you, like any decapitated moose head, have become a trophy on their mantle, a lopped-off head for their wall - a picture and nothing more.

In an effort to avoid strange and up-close encounters with so-called friends, the cold, hard truth of the matter is to not befriend people that are not actually your friends! Yes, it's incredibly difficult to do, because, crappily enough, we have consciences. You know that dude you never talked to in high school who now wants to be pals, yeah, not gonna happen. And how about that chick you sat behind in Biology who had the terrible laugh? Again, give it a rest, toots. Be real about it even if it means you temporarily hurt their feelings, which you probably won't because it would be pretty accurate to surmise that you're not the only poor soul they're harassing.

If you're of the ilk that could care less about any of this, and perhaps enjoys stockpiling friends as much as any other sociopath, please disregard. And, oh yeah...

Sentimental Claptrap

If you don't think print is going the way of the megalodon, it's safe to say that your casual dealings simply haven't crossed one of the many recently axed newspaper writers weeping across our once fair country. Well, look, or rather, read no farther, because your wearisome search is over: lo and behold, I am one of those poor, dastardly, sleazy, repugnant, and haphazardly nearsighted souls. Grasping to my bachelor's degree in writing like a kite string in a lightning storm, I rue the day I ever decided that a shiny house-key would add flair to its wafting and clumsy aerial pirouettes.


Of course, regret is for the imbecile who thinks himself an expert, a thinking man who refuses to think beyond himself. I understand why I'm unemployed, err, partially unemployed, interning at the age of 28 for 10 dollars an hour, corresponding for beans, writing for free, and dishing out whatever cash I scrape up into a bank account that deflates like a kiwi bird every successive semester. I understand, and I'm doing my best to adapt, even if that means I'll be forced to stay behind the financial comfort-line and the techno-trendly times.

Who should I blame? Who's the culprit? Where should my rigid pointer finger point?

Evolution, you dirty son of a bitch.


In a world and realm where nothing is as simple or as efficient or as handy or as sleek or as light or as convenient or as hip or as "epic" as it was just a couple months prior, the ever-rising tide of technology is simply biding its time before it utterly consumes print media, sucking it down in an undertow of Nintendo 64s and flip-phones, drowning it so as to make room for the latest batch of status-defining gadgets.



Kindle, the best of these bitches for its undeniable impact on the logging industry, is also the very same contraption that's suddenly making the idea of reading a book a thing of the recent past. Sooner than later the act of flipping pages will become a detriment to callousless digits the modern world over, prompting smooth-palmed students to deny these archaic piles of print with anxious blasts, "And slice my fingers open? Fuck you!"

There's no harm in accepting a paperless world, but man o' man, is there any way to salvage such an un-eco-friendly tradition?

Remembering Myspace

I can't begin to tell you how many times I've been asked, "You still use Myspace?"

Sure, Myspace has undergone a few changes - most notably a user-unfriendly interface and Facebook design scheme - and for many people, myself included, the implementation of this Version 2.o simply seemed unnecessary. Things were so much easier to navigate on the first go-around, and now, with its advertising splatter in every direction, the intrigue of having your own profile page and background music has lost much of its grandeur. Too many updates, too many changes. The desire to compete with Facebook killed the nostalgic and working grandeur of the world's best online music site.

The thing is: even though Last.fm is giving it a run for it's money (big time), Myspace is still a powerhouse when it comes to finding and listening to new musicians. And why is this? Because Myspace is ultimately made for music.

I could give a crap about what mood person X is in (it's just going to change in an hour), personalized layouts are more of a nuisance and drag down internet performance, and the comment section has become a spam nightmare replete with penis enhancement pills and risque online dating sites. Music is where it's at, and for some odd reason, Myspace is tackling bulletin boards, a pathetic IM service, and APIs like they're actually going to take the lead in a social networking race that has been won twice over.

Using Myspace to find the next Brutal Death Metal band may not be as helpful as, say, hitting up review sites, message
boards, or various blogspots, but when you do find them, chances are pretty high that you'll be able to hear what they're all about on Myspace - the land that musicians never ignored.

"Discover and be Discovered" - yeah, it's cheesy, but it's true.

Electronic Manipulation

Perhaps one of the pitfalls of electronic media is its ability to be manipulated, stolen, and leaked. Hordes of computer hackers have been able to divulge information as easily as they have been able to rob it, and even more trusted media outlets have come under wrath for altering information, most notably within the realm of photojournalism.

While leaking can be a good thing, particularly in terms of breaking news, leaking has also become infamous for the distribution of new electronic media, i.e. summer blockbusters, computer programs, e-books, and music files. Leaked information begins with a single source and quickly snowballs. When the public interest is benefited from a leak, few complain, but when the leak is private, and of no real concern to the public, said leak becomes an invasion of privacy.


Leaks, while occasionally divvied out under anonymity, are also coined as stolen spoils. The everyday media hacker and illegal downloader differ dramatically in this case: while they both willingly take without the consent of the owner in question, the downloader is more of a second generation hacker, and the media hacker, who undoubtedly and consciously thieves, acts as a contemporary Robin Hood, effectually stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. The electronic flexibility and vulnerability of files and codes reaches far beyond mp3 files, however, as there is truly no feeling as helpless or as blindsided as having your personal information taken from you.



The malleable nature of photojournalism in our tech-heavy world should always be taken with a grain of salt. The talent of Photoshop savvies and other slick copyeditors and designers has increased the amount of 'touched-up' and 'worked over' photos. Regardless of content, an imaginative mindset and the latest technology can seamlessly manipulate photos into making viewers believe they are seeing the genuine article.

Pre-internet Nostalgia

So back in the day when people were driving around in bottomless vehicles made from light stone material and bone fragments, other less than convenient but still rather handy social media alternatives were reigning supreme...and believe it or not, are still helping folks out today.

This website lists five, and while you can just as simply follow said embedded link and see what that guy had to say, you may as well skip all that and just read the successive, wholly entertaining and identical list by yours truly.


Numero uno: bulletin boards. Yep, that's right, 4X6 pieces of cork that are best used as a means to sell bass guitars, find babysitters, landscapers, and free kittens. Every once in a while something invaluable will pop up...like where and when to find book clubs.

Dos: CB radio. Now I thought these were designated to truck drivers and truck drivers only, but CB radios, aka citizens' band radio, also allow personal and business communications to tune in at great clarity. These would be for great cross-town Scrabble games...barring you're actually a trustworthy Scrabble player...which, you of course are not.


Tres: Morse code, baby! If you're in trouble this is what you rap, tap, and flash in fast-slow-fast succession. It's saved countless lives at sea, in air, and on land, and although S.O.S tends to be a last-ditch resort, 1,517 RMS Titanic ghosts bug Samuel Morse on a daily apparitional basis.

Uhhh...cuatro: Hallmark has made a killing off of these things, and while the best ones involve naked
old men, promiscuous babies, and chain-smoking penguins, there's been no nicer surprise than getting a card in the mail...with a $20 stowaway. In spite of the stamp price, emails can't hold a flame to the postcard.

Lastly, cinco: Telephone. Sure, you couldn't go much further than the kitchen without ripping the cord from the jack, but at least you knew the repercussions with this thing. Now you have to deal with reception and bars and battery life and whether you're phone is smart or dumb or if it flips or folds, or whatever. Can't beat that classic 'ring.'

Cosmic Face Palm

Oh, print communication. How invaluable you've become, and how misleading you can invariably be from time-to-time. On the one hand: you allow me to write things I'd never normally say in as much time as I want whenever I want. On the other: gone are the inflections, intonations, facial expressions, and visual ticks that allow for a complete communicative meeting.

So how has society clarified the more incomprehensible aspects of your choreographic language? Well, like everything and anything that's apparently hip these days, they went vintage. Like, really old school. They reverted back to symbolization and created the emoticon. And not only that, because of this trend in regression, it's become suddenly less than posh to write complete sentences, hence the boom of the shorthand, the acronym, the incomplete persuasion.






Is there anything as vapid or as self-degrading as an acronym-touting web surfer? Sure, there is, but when a "LOL!" spews across my screen like oh-so-much email spam, I'm suddenly doing my best Worf expression. Here, and please, don't use them, is a list of acronyms that should do little more than entertain you on the most banal level there is.