An editorial on MySpace:
So users create a page and upload their music and photos and videoclips; they post blog entries and links to other stuff and leave witty little messages for one another. And it all meshes together to form a thriving social network. Okey dokey. On the surface it all makes sense.
Yet it’s not for me. I mean, I could go and create a page myself, but somehow I’d rather scrape my retina off with a car key. At 35, I’m too ancient for MySpace – I’d look like a school-gate paedo – but that’s not really the issue. No. It’s simply bloody-minded “olditude” on my part – the same sort of fusty grumbliness that made greying musos boycott CDs in favour of vinyl in the 80s because they JUST DIDN’T WANT TO KNOW about this new-fangled whatchamathing.