After doing a quick run-though of MySpace, and concluding there isn’t really much there to worry about, I thought I would return, hoping to learn from the master (Tom) how to become the most popular guy on the planet (with 90 million friends, there is no doubt as to that claim).
Low and behold, after just a few days on the second most highly traffic-ed website on the planet, I am getting messages from lovely women requesting friendship. What a shocker – they want a half-baked entrepreneur in their lives (even though I haven’t disclosed that fact in my profile yet). These women belong on the covers of magazines, and I’ve noted that there are plenty of gentlemen suckers egging them on. They have tons of friends as well (as all prime-time cosmetics models with hopes of pursuing Ph.Ds in astrophysics should have). Interestingly, profiles that should have absolutely no problem getting picked up every time they walk out the door are using…..tada…..online dating services! Can you imagine that? Well, they must be hard up for cash despite their good looks and outstanding resumes, because they are getting affiliate referral credit for the links to all the pictures they are supposedly posting (about their wild nights on the town, of course).
Still, nothing particularly dangerous. Just some harmless fun, and a little surreptitious marketing.
Of course, these knockouts knocking on my door could be outsiders’ way of capitalizing on the MySpace frenzy, although if they were I’d say it isn’t a very effective means of doing so (hitting up obscure, new members). If outsiders have gained a access foothold into the broader member base, then Fox Interactive has a real problem.
MySpace just topped the charts, according to Hitwise. Of course, there are plenty of questions as to what being number one according to Hitwise really means, along with what all those attractive women wanting to party with you really mean too. Slashdot has a nice roundup on the matter.
PS: Yes, I’ve been back, and all those models are courting me too. That’s what makes me most suspicious.
A teacher calls it a long, unsupervised locker room break. Nice.