The Worst of MySpace*

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Every now and then, you run into a guy like Howard (thanks Assassin). You know, a crazy dude that looks kinda like a retarded Andre 3000 with the most f*cked-up makeup job ever, posing like a dirty Eastern European crack whore straight out of the dirtiest gutter of Bucharest.

Oh, you’ve never ran into anyone like that? Ok, me neither. I was trying to impress you. Didn’t work, huh? Oh, and my fly is down. F*cking great.

Anyway, this guy is awesome. I laughed like a rabid hyena for about 5 minutes and then vomited profusely. Then my ear squirted blood and a Fruit Roll-up came out of my urethra.

Pictures are definitely worth a thousand words — which is a gay (not in the homosexual way) of saying I slept 0 hours last night and I don’t feel like writing more — so let me leave you with this:

Analysis

So I was recovering from a debaucherous weekend of scotch-drinking and love-making to many women at one time when I stumbled across an article in the New York Times. Apparently, companies are now privy to the fact that résumés are really wads of rose-scented lies originating directly from the asses of job applicants, so they’re checking out MySpace profiles to find out about the real you:

Curious about the candidate, Ms. Homayoun went to her page on Facebook. She found explicit photographs and commentary about the student’s sexual escapades, drinking and pot smoking, including testimonials from friends. Among the pictures were shots of the young woman passed out after drinking.

“I was just shocked by the amount of stuff that she was willing to publicly display,” Ms. Homayoun said. “When I saw that, I thought, ‘O.K., so much for that.’ “

Hahaha! Fools! The Internet is vast, but it is not private. Sure, it might be “your” space, but hey, would you have glass walls for that den of filth and bodily fluids you call your bedroom?

Right, so why would you have the online equivalent?

Oh, and all you whiners that cry about Worst “invading their privacy” by highlighting their terrible profile, take note: the one invading your privacy is you, sucker.

Analysis

Watch for a spike in the unemployment rate and a plummeting GDP as the MySpace generation begins to graduate and start looking for jobs.

Ok, back to my Sunday after-church tryst with the pastor’s wife. (Yes, I’ll post the photos on my profile.)

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[This is going to be the most half-assed article to date. I’m really busy. Sorry.]

All I can think of when I look at Zack is think, “What an incredible dickface.”

Again, we have a complete tool shed - a virtual son of Bob Villa - with some of the most ridiculously terrible hair ever seen, making sweet love to a camera in his outstretched hand.

What a f*cking a**hole.

I don’t think the words “vapid” and “materialistic” even begin to describe this fashion clown, especially when you read though his general interests:

big bottles of smartwater … paris hilton … us weekly, tanned skin … chanel, rich people … making my hair blonder … adorable little dogs … pretty boys, white loafers …

Seriously, who told you
that looked good?

Ugh. And it goes on.

It also amazes me to see people who purport to be fashion whores, yet have no concpept of good design. If you claim to be into fashion, yet have no idea that your page looks like the wrapper off a piece of Mexican candy, I can’t help but think you are probably just wearing what some doofus says is fashionable, not what looks good. This makes you nothing but a sheep.

Is it wrong that I fantasize about Zack being eaten by sharks?

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I’ve done it. I’ve found the ultimate LA d**chebag! It’s former child star, Jeremy Jackson (thanks Janina). You may know him as David Hasselhoff’s son on the hit series, Baywatch! But probably not!

Screams taste

Great-looking profile, jerknuts. It looks like the 80’s scraped the dark recesses of its colon and deposited it on your page. The Trojan Magnum condom wrapper background is an especially subtle, tasteful addition. Oh, that Jeremy! He sure does love to have sex, and he has a huge penis!

That f*cking hair, and everything else

Are you kidding?

So there’s fashion, and then there’s this jackass, trying way too hard and ending up looking like a cross between Kevin Federline and the lead singer of Poison. Leave it to some LA d**chebag to also tag a fashion mullet on to the back. He must think he’s setting some kind of LA fashion trend, but in reality the only trends he might be setting are in the circus clown profession.

I’d also love to slap that I’m-so-f*cking-cool smirk right off his face with a wadded up ball of his own stupid print t-shirts. How much did you pay for all of those, d**che-bagel?

Your 15 minutes have elapsed

The really cool super neato Shark Club
is in the bottom right corner

What do you do after you’ve squandered your youth on Baywatch? Squander your adulthood! That’s right, Jeremy’s new gig — apart from being a professional clown — is “Booking agent” for “Blow Pure Uncut Club” (subtle!) at “The Shark Club.”

Ok, so you’re a “booking agent” for a club at a club in … Costa Mesa?! This guy makes it out like he’s Mr. Scene, yet his club-club is about a 45 minute drive (if you’re lucky) from where the real scene is.

I think the Hoff would be disappointed. Or maybe not. He is, after all, a third-rate cheesewad who’s big in Funkyzeit mit Bruno Germany of all places. By the way, that comes after being big in Japan, which comes after being big in England. America > England > Japan > Germany. I guess that’s fourth-rate, then.

Analysis

Congratulations, Jeremy. You’re this year’s Ultimate LA D**chebag! You’ve also set a record for categories: Celebs, Dudes/Bros, Posers, and Skanky/Sleazy.

Keep up the good work.

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[Fresh back from a trip. Sorry for the lag. Actually, I’m just lazy.]

Do you know a dude that’s doomed to never have sex without resorting to force, prostitution or bestiality?

Sure, we all do. They’re the kind of pathetic losers that even the Fab Five wouldn’t touch with a 10-foot rubber penis.

Today’s Worst, Mark, was a lucky snag right out of Cool New People (thanks Tom).

This guy’s profile is like a recipe of How to Not F*ck. First of all, he looks like some kind of forest-dwelling Grizzly Adams psycho motherf*cker. Unless you’re looking to mate with a bear, you need to shave your face, buddy. There are few women in the world that will make sweet love to a mound of fur, and those women are probably not straight.

Let’s run down the list:

About me: I’m just a fun loving guy looking for a good time.

And that friendly barbed-wire background image tells us so.

Next, under Interests:

General: Lately I’ve been gardening. I think it’s pretty fun, and definatley worthwhile.

You know, gardening is fun and everything — hey, even I have a garden — but you have to round that out with something a little edgier, like “drinking”, “fighting”, “making sweet love in my T-Bird” or “slaying the enemies of America with my bare hands.”

Chicks crave excitement, you know. A boring boyfriend is like a free license for women to create drama. Am I wrong, ladies?

Next:

Music: I’m really into bluegrass.

Check minus. I guarantee you that those blond, overinflated-boob bimbos on your profile do not like bluegrass. That is the type of woman you’re looking for, correct? Not a toothless swamp hag, right?

And:

Movies: “Adult Films”, if you catch my drift.

No, it doesn’t. It makes you look
like a psycho.

Ha, I sure do “catch your drift”, Mr. Clever! Nudge, nudge! Wink wink!

CHECK MINUS, ASSHOLE. Don’t reveal your porn addiction until at least three months into the relationship — unless she reveals her’s first.

More:

Books: I’m not really into reading.

Certainly lack of education will be your one redeeming quality. You might be a porn-addicted ManBear, but at least you ain’t no Smarty McSmartypants!

Still:

Income: Less than $30,000

Who couldn’t love a broke, overweight, porn-addicted, gardening, illiterate Captain Caveman lookalike? (If people read “How to Not Suck at MySpace“, they’d understand why listing your income is retarded.)

CHECK MINUS.

Finally:

I’m trying to find someone I can have a long term realtionship with.

I really must tell you, amigo: Good luck.

Analysis

Luck may not be enough.

You know, Bill Gates wrote a book on how to score chicks, called “Everything I Know About Scoring Chicks.” It’s one page long — technically, I’m violating copyright law by publishing its entire contents here, but that’s the kind of Internet maverick I am — and it reads “Get rich.”