Dir: Andre Madness
I suppose it's true, you do learn something new every day. I was unaware that whores didn't wear panties. If nothing else, I can take comfort in knowing that none of the women I've ever bedded down with were whores, since they all, at one point or another, wore panties, even if it was on their heads. Strange as it may be, whores may not wear panties, but they do have myspace accounts. Perhaps it is the high cost of high-speed internet that cuts into the money allocated toward buying panties. Since giving into the addiction that is myspace two weeks ago, I've unearthed every stripper's, porn star's, amateur whore's, and neighborhood slut's myspace bio. I know I'm about two years too late to the game in discovering myspace, but that's just how I am. If everyone else gets into something, I must, by nature, hate it on principle until everyone else is over it. Then and only then will I allow myself to indulge and pretend as if I am singlehandedly resurrecting the dead. I can't explain it. It's just my thing. So I hated on myspace for years until recently. Then in less than an hour, I became so engulfed by its might that I stayed logged on for one week straight. I sought out people I hadn't seen in years, kids I went to grammar school with and people I met once in a bar in Albuquerque. I would type in names like Peter or Dave, because I've known some people named Peter and Dave, and 7,000 pages would come up and I'd go through each and every page to see if I knew any of them (which I did not). Mind you, my purpose on myspace is strictly voyeurism. I do not initiate contact. I've learned a lot in my two weeks glued to the computer. I learned that a good friend of mine moved to St. Louis and another married the girl I introduced him to six years ago and moved to Minnesota. One girl I once knew is now dating one of the guys in Nine Inch Nails and another works for the NCAA. I have since stopped reading the newspaper. I no longer care about current events. All I care about is myspace and filling in the blanks in my mind left vacant by years of alcohol and drug abuse. Yesterday morning I tried to log on and the machine said myspace was down due to some technical difficulties. I went flush and my hands began to shake worse than Muhammad Ali's. I didn't know what to do. I had lost my only source of contact with the outside world. It was like September 11th all over again. Only worse. Were my friends trapped in the computer? Would they burn alive in there? Would they be forced to jump out of my Windows 95 to their death? I smacked the side of my hard drive, because that is the extent of my knowledge when it comes to computer repair. Nothing. I went to my front window only to see the last leaf fall from a tree. I knew then that life as I knew it would never be the same. I put on my coat with the fuzzy hood and went out to the flagpole and lowered the Stars and Stripes to half-mast. I have not logged on since. It hurts too much.
For more of Chris Nieratko, go to NJSkateshop.com or myspace.