I believe it was our late Patrick Henry who once said, "Give me a realm without obnoxious teenagers who can't spell, or give me death!"

Adopting this phrase as their credo, our forefathers selflessly flung their lives into the metaphorical (though sometimes literal) fire in order to deliver us a country free from the iron-fist oppression of mind-bendingly painful internet surveys and bands like Made in Mexico. They triumphed. It seems that the nation's youngsters of 1780 busied themselves with blacksmith apprenticeships or sewing, not posting their boobs so that all may see or blasting out "brown-acid-doused, freeform post-punk," whatever the crap that is.

Their victory was long-lived, yet short-lived at the same time. Over two hundred years later, the terror known as MySpace dragged itself from the muck and mire of Tom's mind (WHO IS TOM ANYWAY), coalescing into a hellscaped playground for some of our public school system's finest failures, internet predators, and bands with such incredible accolades as "they kind of don't suck, maybe. I mean I think my sister likes them."

Thankfully, my dear family, we have formed something of a resistance group against the cold, loveless institution known as MySpace. Someday, somehow, we will find a way to loosen its Judo-esque grip on humanity.

Until then, I have a bunch of World of Warcraft to play. Tell me when you guys have a good plan going, okay?

~Ayla