Remember the Myspace Top 8?
Those were some good times on the World Wide Web.
Because, when you stop and think about it, what could possibly go wrong with being required to rank, in order, how much you love your friends and family? I only see butterflies and rainbows coming out of that situation.
As I look back, I can’t help but wonder what Tom was thinking. I picture him in his little white shirt, looking like the Head Gamemaker in a Suzanne Collins novel.
“Let’s spice things up a bit. How about I make users choose between their college roommate and the woman who carried them for nine months?”
Myspace Top 8 became the Chuck E. Cheese’s of passive aggressive playgrounds.
Your childhood best friend bumps you off their list after high school. Your response? Talk it out over a pitcher of Hawaiian Punch like two responsible adults? Yeah, nice try sensibility. This is Myspace, not the real world. Her picture’s coming down like the Berlin Wall.
Speaking of the Berlin Wall, I can only imagine what the Top 8 would have done to World War II. Russia logs onto Myspace and sees Germany replaced them. “Oh snap. Great Britain, you just got a promotion.” (That’s a translation of the original Russian)
That insignificant, significant list became a place of broken, shattered dreams as we all sunk into deeper states of decomposed narcissism. Families turned against each other. Friendships unravelled before our eyes. Ultimately, why would anyone settle for #4 when that stuck up girl from high school is at #3?
The Top 8 destroyed dating as we know it. Remember how heartbreaking it was when your crush didn’t add you to their list? Even worse, remember how you felt when they did? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?! At least you knew where you stood off the grid. Now what? Does she only want a shoulder to cry on? Or, is she waiting for you to finally ask her out to Bennigan’s? Because really, nothing says love like, “Monte Cristo for two.”
The Top 8 lost us many a good men to the friendzone.
We all had so many questions when it came to love. Should you bump your crush to #5 where she placed you? Or, what about moving her to #4 so she knows you’re already picking out the ring? You might have been ahead of her ex-boyfriend, but who’s that other guy? Oh, just her cousin. Rest easy my weary soul.
But wait, she’s from Arkansas, this could go either way.
Those were truly dark times in the kingdom.
Then, there was always that creepy moment when a casual acquaintance put you up on their board. If the extent of your relationship is the word, “Hi,” you might start thinking about sleeping with a shotgun at night.
Anyone remember the friend who made “Jesus” their #1? Who can forget that guy. I’d rather not speak for God here, but I’m pretty sure he was like, “I don’t want any piece of this biz.” (I added the “biz” part and everything else)
Aw, the day when Myspace extended the Top 8 to 16. 16 living, breathing souls! That’s 8 less people to offend on a daily basis. 7 if you count the six months I added Hilary Duff to #16 (She kept texting me to move her up, but I ain’t no hollaback boy!).
Things became too ridiculous to handle when Myspace gave us the option for 32. That’s just plain nuts. I don’t even have 32 friends, let alone 32 people I love enough to put on my front page. I ended up just choosing a few girls I didn’t know very well.
Have you ever thought about why we all went along with the Top 8? Together, we could have stopped the madness. But no, we drank the Kool-Aid like that kid drank the chocolate river in Willy Wonka. We played the Myspace Hunger Games until our relationships blew up in a fiery explosion. Lo and behold there we were, seen walking away in slow motion as the flames licked up every ounce of sanity behind us.
“Yes my children, overanalyze your little hearts out,” mumbled Tom as he blew his nose on a hundred dollar bill.
Wade’s Wisdom is a regular column by Wade Bearden. Here, he shares his wisdom, knowledge, and intricate understanding of life to readers all over the world. Like this piece? Try these too: 10 Reasons You Shouldn’t Exercise this Year, 10 People Who Will Not Survive the Robot Apocalypse, Backdoor Brag Praise Report.