I don't know about MySpace, Justin Timberlake

“So does anybody remember MySpace?” is the perfect example of a rhetorical question because OF COURSE YOU DO. We all remember MySpace and Tom and our top friends and finding a backdrop and finding an animated curser and the eventual fade of MySpace into oblivion. Yes, MySpace went away, but now it is back — back at the hands of Justin Timberlake who has chosen not to give us newly recorded music and instead give us this. We are now face to face with the past, and I don’t know if I’m into it.

First of all, why? Why are you doing this, Justin Timberlake? You are a talented, hilarious, ambitious, seemingly very great guy, but WHY MYSPACE? I was ready to forget. I was ready to forget about the automatic music, and the messages I sent to bands (it was a dark time) and the weird spam I got on my wall sometimes and how choosing a top eight was literally a decision on par with choosing which two types of chips you will use as part of a “2 for $5″ bargain. Essentially, MySpace became the super lowrise flared jeans of the internet: I know it’s something I did, but I never want to go back.


Because this isn’t LOST, Justin. We don’t HAVE to go back. True, you are offering us “Editor’s Playlists” and “New Music Tuesday” and features about movies was love (PITCH PERFECT FOREVER), but it’s too much. IT’S TOO MUCH AND TOO MANY. I’m still learning how to use LinkedIn, and I was forced into that because I’m an adult who wants to keep having a job. I know we all associate you with Facebook because of The Social Network, but this isn’t the answer. You know what is? I’m not sure, but not this. I don’t remember my password. I don’t remember what it was like to log in, and I don’t want to have to. I don’t even think Tom wants to log in anymore. AND IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT. (Also, hi Tom, if you’re reading this!)


But you get a billion — see what I did there — A’s for effort. The site looks actually good! It offers interesting things. And if you promise you won’t go through 1925285285 transformations a la your pal Mark Zuckerberg played by Jesse Eisenberg, I’m not going to lie, I might sign back up. Maybe if you can promise (AND I MEAN PROMISE) that the new MySpace will kibosh the following fears, I will re-nag on all the things I just said and drink the proverbial Kool-Aid and/or HTML codes. Just . . . here’s what scares me:

1) Am I going to be reminded in the slightest of what MySpace used to be? There are some photos on my old page, Justin, that I would hope never see the light of day again. A lot of ill-fitting polka dotted items. A lot of scarves being worn when it wasn’t cold. A lot of me thinking I was a very cool, cutting-edge 21-year-old when I was not. A lot of “witty” captions that ended with “LOL.” Are you going to make me remember? Are you going to make me log in to my old page and force me to delete my past? (Because I will. But I won’t be happy about it.)

2) Will I be forced to choose a top eight? Because also no. I CAN’T CHOOSE. Also, I won’t take it seriously and will probably make all eight of my top friends various snack brands because ranking people is terrible. Remember when you left somebody out? Granted, I didn’t know enough people who had MySpace for that conundrum to take place at the time, but I heard about it and it sounded terrible. Is that something you want to be responsible for? Me, having to hear people complain about that type of thing? Because I will. And again, I won’t be happy .

3) Will it confuse me? Because I am already going into this confused. Confusion #1: WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THIS AND NOT SEXY BACK. Confusion #2: I don’t know how to use it. I don’t want to have to sign up to learn, and I don’t want to have to do anything other than type 140 characters in a space and have those 140 characters be read. Think of me as the Lucille Bluth of MySpace. (“I don’t know what that is and I don’t care to find out.”) So if you can promise me (AND I MEAN PROMISE ME) that this will rival Twitter in terms of awesomeness and/or simplicity, I will not chalk MySpace up to the internet’s answer to The Elephant Graveyard.

So what I’m saying, Justin, is that if you can make MySpace the equivalent of some sort of comfortable couch, I will be down. But if not? If I have to scroll and click and type and only THEN just get to reading the witty repartee of my eight favourite snack companies? It’s over. We’re over. It’s all over. And I won’t look back. And no amount of SNL cameos will put it right.*

*Okay fine, some will. But if we ever meet, I will make sure that you’re reminded of this letter and that my top eight snack companies have sat unengaged for weeks.

Make the super low rise flared jeans of the internet a straight leg, Justin. Make MySpace wearable. Or more importantly, don’t make it anything like what it used to be. Because unlike the lifeboat that saves Rose Dewitt-Bukater at the end of Titanic (SPOILER ALERT), nobody HAS to come back*.

*”Sexy” does, though. In response to this open letter, can you please release a new song?

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