This morning I received an email from Friendster. Yes, that’s right, the social network that started it all. I had hoped they had simply slipped into oblivion, with the founders forcing themselves to drink Busch Lite and erase themselves for their sins against humanity, but it appears that the are still around, and so is my account.
The reason that I have not heard a peep from the forefather of that eye-sore Myspace, and that time hole of Facebook, is twofold: I haven’t had the email account to which the Friendster account is linked, active in over two years; Second, one I know uses it, talks about, or even mocks it – that’s how old things can become on the Intra-web. So, what was the message you might ask? It was from my good friend Mandie, saying that she hadn’t spoken to me in a long time (which is odd because I saw her on Saturday), and that she didn’t use Friendster anymore, but rather something else which I had not heard of. The picture will make it slightly clearer.
So it turns out that the only thing that Friendster is now good for is as a medium for spammers to waste more of my time by sending more junk that’s going to get through my email filters. And I guess to hack my friends old accounts. When we’re all a hundred years old, are all our old accounts on long forgotten fad websites going to still be sending us fake friends requests, spam text messages and our tenth billion “Increase the size of your penis” emails. I have tried in vein to cancel my MySpace account for months now – it is simply not possible. How many of these types of awful ways to contact me are going to exist when I’m old and crazy and willing to click on the suspicious “banking refund” links or try giving that nice man in Nigeria a call.
I wait everyday, with dread, for the Internet to finally get me.