I've joined MySpace.

Why in the name of God would I do that, you ask? The answer is as long as it is complex. Mostly it's so I can check out pictures of hot chicks.

In case you don't know what MySpace is (Hi, Mom), I'll give you a brief rundown. It's basically a place for the marginally literate masses to create their very own vanity Web page complete with pictures and music. It also allows for networking via "friends". Someone requests you as a friend, you say "sure", and then a link to their MySpace account appears on yours. No further interaction is required. It's all very strange.

So I'm sitting there, minding my own business when this chick requests to be my friend. She only has a single picture and it shows her revealing her belly ring. I'm making the assumption, of course, that this is actually her and that the true owner of the account isn't a 400 pound dude.

I say to myself, "Sure, why the fuck not?" Up until now, my only friends were three of my former college colleagues and a fellow tarantula enthusiast. My friend list could use some spicing up, and a picture of an exposed belly ring ought to do it. Still, why did she want to be my friend? Was it my incredibly witty (by MySpace standards) bio? Did we share a fascination with tarantulas? Did my poor quality picture enchant her? She lives in California, so even if I weren't married there would be no chance of meeting. So what was it?

Shortly after, I visited her site. I looked at a list of comments from other people. Virtually all of them were to the effect of, "Thanks for adding me as a friend. Who the hell are you?"

Then the sad, sickening truth struck me. I was hit by a friend whore. Yes, there are people out there who have nothing better to do than troll around looking for people to add to their friend list. Once they add them, they want nothing more to do with them. What is their purpose? Is it an ego thing? Am I involved in some kind of twisted competition? What if I'm only a small cog in much grander, more sinister machinations?

At the end of the day, though, it's a victimless crime. She gets another mindless fool to add to her tally, and I get to add a hot chick (or at least a picture of a hot chick) to my friends list.  And the best part is, it comes with no social obligation. Woo-hoo!

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter, though. MySpace will be gone in a year, replaced by the Next Best Thing, whatever that is.