Why I Feel Old Part II

MySpace is a very dark place. It’s opened my eyes to a world I never wanted to see. If you’re not familiar with it, you can search names, schools, zip codes, etc. to look for people you know. I’ve done all of the above and I’ve discovered a portal into hell, or at least into John Malkovich's head.

I’ve learned that a friend’s ex-boyfriend is quite possibly illiterate, and I’ve seen pictures of him in his underwear that I was never meant to see. I’ve learned that kids I babysat for get knee-walking drunk every weekend. That’s no big deal since I did the same thing at their age, but I didn’t post pictures of myself on the internet so someone could show them to my parents. I’ve learned that some people in my hometown are racist (not a huge surprise). It’s pretty obvious when their URLs contain the words “I hate N******.” Equally disturbing to the liberal usage of the N word was Christine’s discovery of a profile belonging to a little boy who we babysat years ago. The sweetest, cutest, most innocent boy who once told his mom he "fweated" (sweated) rather than peed his bed, is now 18 and his interests include “gettin laid and smokin Chronic.” I didn’t need to know that. In my mind he’s remained 3 years old, just like the last time I saw him. Do you think it would hurt his action with the ladies if I left him a message saying Stay gold Ponyboy, stay gold?.