perhaps in the guise of women getting the vote or even…now I’m going to whisper this…a sandal wearing, limp-wristed, Starbuck drinking half-mocha/half café Americano, with just a spritz of vanilla and a dusting of nutmeg, liberal queer as president. Jesus tits! Did you feel that? Did you feel the world slightly shift off its axis? Hmm…maybe I’m having a stroke…Moving on swiftly.

Trends come in all shapes and sizes. Slap-bracelets, pogs and eight-ball jackets can all be called trends. Now I know I began to bring it old school…er…I mean, OLD SKOOL so let me modern it up for you. Hmm… modern trends…oh shit, I know girl tattoos above the ass crack, men tattoos of fucking barbed wire and writing like a meth-head mixed with Hello Kitty.

yIp (•) *B* tAlKiNg biZ-owt dIs sHiZ-Nit, []D ][ ||\/|| []D LMAO!!!111!

Christ I really hate that one, it’s like if I ever saw anyone doing that I would go out of my way to club them with any available object. Well Myspace is a trend just like those evils I just mentioned, a trend that will eventually fade.

You really think as those generic tattoos fade and the trendy music gets new and frightening the Myspace kids will keep up the charade of logging in everyday just to type a blog about some interesting bird they saw, coupons on balms and salves they received or how their prostate cancer is doing? Fuck no. They’ve become old, bitter and republican, drinking Joe Louis Soda-pop and microwaving some creamed chipped beef for one, cause it’s been going on eight years since Martha died and still they can’t find their soup.

Why Myspace is such a tour-de-force is a simple answer driven by simple people. So your sitting back watching some UFC and it’s boring as balls cause it’s the fucking highlight show, so it’s ninety minutes of Andrei Arlovski and Ken fucking Shamrock knocking out of some fuck from Middletown, New Jersey or Lafayette, Louisiana in 14 seconds and one of your buds says, “ Hey I’m going to troll for some Myspace trim.” You’re taken back by this statement. “What the hell does that mean?” you query.

So he gets on Myspace and you notice it’s got lots of shit you like; Cool new people, adds for American Express and music you’ve never heard of. “Elbow?! What the fuck…” but you’re not opposed to listening to anything new; I mean so what if on your MP3 player it’s nothing but 80’s super group Foreigner and some Arabic music you downloaded cause you were going out with that hot ass Persian trick, but she was all “Blah blah stop aide to Israel” and you made a comment about how that’s kinda like the Nazis philosophy and well…nevertheless it ended badly.

Your buddy is eye-deep in broads around your zip-code and he starts chatting some up: “Hey, Juggs, how bout an add?” A couple of minutes later the minx replies and then the courtship begins and eventually ends with 37 cans of PBR made into a pyramid and her dancing for sweaty dollars and some euros you got from your army buddy as he stopped in Spain on the way to the desert. Well there you have it. Why Myspace is the greatest site on the internet for meeting some gash to slide up in…Hence, why it is so fashionable.

Now, about those jerks on said Myspace. Well as with any avenue where a slu…tric…hook…um…young lady might frequent there will be wanks. Just as the sun sat on the British Empire and Larry the Cable Guy is horribly unfunny, jerk-offs will congregate where the play is. You’ve been to a club, hell a bar, why not an airport? All these places you can find douches. You know the type…maybe they’re Guido, if you hail from the East Coast maybe they are nouveau riche, dickless “Talent Agents” if you hail from the West, wherever you are from you know the type:

• Crazy fucking hair, styled in a way that would make a Russian sailor get motion sick
• Tight shirt, with or without a collar, if a collar, turned up, and or unbuttoned just enough to see ‘boss’ chain
• Tats, Tats and Tats. Not cool ones mind you but something trite…like your Greek tag or a panther/robot/skeleton that looks like it’s tearing your skin off
• Jeans or Kakis two sizes too big, hey dick got your thick leather belt with buckle the size of a wombat? Yea? Maaaannn Loooking gooood!
• Reissues of Puma sneaks in an odd fucking color…say tangerine sun burnt illusion; or boots that would have been cool if an Italian black-shirt wore them to stomp over democracy.
• Accessories! The modern day cock-suck has to have accessories! Two configurations;
1. The Minimalist, where the ass somehow managed to yam several credit cards, DL, campus ID, Suncoast card, lids card, 300 dollars in cash, picture of his ‘Lady’ and a receipt from old navy where the bitch that helped him pick out a scarf for said ‘lady’ wrote her phone number, all into the paper sleeve you get with your debit card. Cell phone? In his Honda passport, der.

2. The Sherpa, this guy is going out for a few hours and packed like he’s off for summer camp. Gum, combination floss/toothpicks, toothpick holder, cell phone, mini-flashlight, digital camera, billfold, checkbook, coaster from the current establishment, over three dollars in change, over thirty dollars in crumpled bills, ring of keys like a prison janitor, assorted papers concealed in eight cargo pockets.

These guys are easy to spot and should be avoided, unless you live with them…then well you really don’t have much choice except for the love of god don’t introduce them to broad you are into, because I swear on my balls eight fuzzy navels later she will be doing a video with Jeff and Chris where she gets filled out like an application by your so called friends… Goddamn fuckers.

I’m out