The Ten Commandments of MySpace Friend Requests

(WARNING: Although designed to be humorously offensive, this post is not for those with an aversion to foul, evil, dirty, dirty language)

Getting indignant over anything that smacks of an elitist code where MySpace is concerned is rather ironical when you think about it. So I offer the following Ten Commandments with said irony firmly in mind.

The Ten Commandments of MySpace Friend Requests

1. Thou shalt not waste my time. If I can't tell within two seconds who the fuck you are, consider yourself "Next-ed". I gots me a hair trigger that loves that DENY button. No photo? Get fucked. Some lame-ass name that involves you getting tricky with character spelling (a la sup3rm@n)? Suck my balls.

2. Thou shalt get a courtesy peek for flashing some skin. Sad but true, but combining a friend request with ass cheeks or cleavage will always yield a courtesy peek. Whether we admit it or not, every guy operates under the delusion that they actually know the skank bitch requesting their friendship, even though they've never known a hottie named Chloe. Your first clue that you don't know this webcam whore? Her top friends list is comprised entirely of dudes named 2Fast2Furious, 2Rich4D@B!tches and Ladies Love Cool Steve (in short, a collection of fuckquids too dumb to realize they've been duped ... the same guys who, at a strip club, think to themselves, "Man, this hottie is really feeling me").

3. Thou shalt not freak me out with your oddball "nuclear family" friend requests. Suburban fathers and soccer moms on MySpace scare the shit out of me. Seriously, why the fuck are you on MySpace, and why do you want to be my friend? I don't know your kids or you, so why would I give a shit about your latest family trip to Estes Park or group photos of the clan. I'm seeing more and more of these lately, and it's really giving me nightmares ... like the creepy old guy who shows up to the dance clubs. Is this how the Evangelicals recruit these days?

4. Thou shalt shove your "be my band's friend" requests right up your arse. Don't tell me your band sounds like Radiohead ... it doesn't. I sent a petition to Tom to automatically delete all band profiles that include the phrase "hints of Radiohead" in their "sounds like" section. Furthermore, don't send me a request because you did a search for people who like Sublime and figured I'd like your band too ... I won't. Seriously! Did you bring Bradley back to life? Is Lou Dog with him? No, so sit the fuck down.

5. Thou shalt be denied in a New York minute if anyone in your band where's black-and-white striped shirts or jeans designed for toddlers. All emo kids are asked to show up at the barbers (where they know how to use scissors), and then head over to a store that actually sells big boy clothes. And for god's sake, if you're going to wear some goofy hat, at least wear one that clearly says, "Hey, I know this hat is goofy, but I was born a crack baby, so I'm wearing it anyway." You know, something like a Fez hat or a beanie with a propeller. Until you've completed these steps, please keep your distance. If I wanted your disease, I'd lick a camel's ass.

6. Thou shalt not have a prayer of being my friend if I see your band is from L.A. Bands no longer do the starving Hollywood rock star bullshit. Those that do don't have enough time, money, brain cells or sober moments required to open a MySpace account, let alone build and maintain a profile. Therefore, all you other fucks claiming Los Angeles are really just a bunch of Orange County blue bloods trying to establish some street cred. Look, I feel real fuckin' bad that mommy and daddy are withholding your recording funds until you build a base of 10,000 friends. But if I wanted to hear another "Soundtrack to the Generation That Sucks", I'd fly down there and give you the money and Size 2 pants myself.

7. Thou shalt be excluded from all "Band Commandments" if your crew is from my hood. Local bands, no matter how shitty or cheesy, will always get a home in my friends list. The foundation of tomorrow's music starts in your own backyard, and as such you must support your local musicians. If you don't, you're a Nazi. So, yes Josh & The Jump Jivin' Wailers, I would like to be your friend.

8. Thou shalt realize that Tony Robbins did it first and did it better. If you come to me with a "great opportunity" under the guise of a friend request, you will be shot on site, you little maggot. It's one thing for legit, relevant businesses (e.g., Hellcat Records, Suicide Girls, etc.) to have a presence on MySpace. It is not, however, cool for you to take up my time trying to pimp your latest MLM scheme. Sell it to the guys who love the webcam chics. Or better yet, squash the MLM noise and get ta strippin'.

9. If thou wishes to be my friend, thou shalt fight the urge to load your page up with every goddamn third-party MySpace plug-in known to man. If I was nostalgic for mid-'90s websites, I'd boot up my favorite WYSIWYG editor, throw myself on my keyboard and mouse and induce a seizure. Seriously dude ... there are better ways to get yourself short-listed for next year's Darwin Awards.

10. Thou need not apply if thou already havest more than 1,000 friends. What could I possibly do for you that the one thousand other friends couldn't? I mean, if you couldn't find a full-time fluffer among the group you already had, you weren't going to find it with me. Besides, I'd never crack your Top 8 (or even your Top 24) with that much competition. Based on odds alone, I wouldn't even have a bee's dick of a chance, so fuck it.