I logged into MySpace recently and it was all in Spanish; granted I was in Chile, but it pissed me off. I was completely disoriented so I started hitting random keys and ended up on some amateur porn website. Apparently while I’ve been dicking around the past couple years, some asshole schemed up MySpaceLatino, it’s really just a ploy to capitalize on anyone south of Mexico because Central and South Americans love new brands and products. They’re kinda like eternal hipsters, but with less money and a closer proximity to pure Colombian cocaine. Actually I’ve had aspirations of “moving up in the world,” so I applied for an internship with Tom over at MySpace. In my cover letter I told him about an idea I had that could be really profitable: MySpacePrison.
All the inmates could have laptops and communicate with each other, make friends in prisons overseas, or at least find some lonely divorced woman to lure into visiting hours. Maybe even rub one out to phone sex while staring at her cleavage through three inches of Plexiglas. I think prison Internet would significantly reduce the amount of illicit notes being passed around, and all messages could be filtered through a central agency to reduce drugs and violent activity. It seemed too good to be true…Wireless Internet would be mandatory, because the cords could be turned into a noose. Soon prisoners would form MySpace groups aka e-gangs, the Bloods would control a certain message board, probably “Love and Relationships”. God forbid you learn some skills and hack a profile; you’ll get stabbed in the shower.
This photo represents an ex-girlfriend, and the submission came from a loyal reader. It’s unrelated to the story, but I figured a little T&A was relevant to this website, and you bet your ass I’d drool over this in prison.
Anyways, I’m not even sure Tom exists; he’s more of a concept. The company just needed an image that was akin to a scapegoat when the server crashed. “Damnnit Tom!” The guy never returned my email; he probably didn’t even look at my resume either. Not that my experience bussing tables at a New England seafood restaurant was pertinent, but I digress. So I took my gig over to the crew at
Facebook, they loved the idea! I had instant visions of working in a plush office overlooking some metropolitan area, maybe even a park with a toddler chasing a cute puppy. But it was kind of problematic; after all, what if prisoners woke up in the morning, logged on and discovered they were “poked” in the middle of the night? Someone would immediately create a Facebook event invite and send out a mass RSVP. They might call it something like “Southern Mexicans vs. Blacks vs. Aryans/Neo-Nazi’s/WhiteGuys/Ex-WalMartEmployees BATTLE ROYALE! “Maybe attending” my ass; better be ready for the biggest fucking party of the year. Fans in the recreation yard might get a little antsy before the event and fashion a USB jump drive shank and start a rampant killing spree. Or at least hold up the cafeteria for some extra dessert. It’ll be problematic when relationships get into that status of “it’s complicated,” or they see themselves drop down on others’ Top Friends list. Prisoners would be devastated and might have to go to couple’s therapy, or start drinking alcoholic contraband… actually no one would even see the prison doctor for health problems anymore. They’d just Google that shit.
with glitter should be outlawed. The disco ball spins like a police siren lighting up my face; all the other girls on the dance floor know better than to get near an asshole like me. 
