Sunday Styles inspires a meta-theory, smugness

What do reality TV, Ross Perot's 1992 presidential campaign, and MySpace.com have in common?

People are so sick of being force-fed derivative, manufactured products that they'll grasp at anything that gives them a hint of authenticity, even if the product is wholly inauthentic and every bit as contrived as the products that consumers want to escape. (cf. Thomas Franks, the conquest of cool)

As depicted in today's Sunday Styles article, MySpace.com is a nine-figure business founded by two hipsters but recently acquired by Rupert Murdoch and NewsCorp. It's Friendster 2.0. The people in this article project too much of themselves into their status on MySpace.com -- spazzing about how many people they list as friends, throwing parties for their profiles, etc. It's very Eleanor Rigby, as reflected by the profile of a 19-year-old Californian named Ben: "I live in a suburb where a new shopping center makes everyone go loco it is so boring. I have got to find real people to talk to, thus I am on my space. I am here. Talk to me."

Goddamn, everybody needs to watch Pump Up the Volume and then get laid. When people turn to Rupert Murdoch because they're lonely, they're in trouble.

Elsewhere, the Styles Section reports on a pricey new social club for successful businesspeople and B-list celebrities.* Its purpose and $55,000 entry fee are sort of obnoxious, but at least it involves actual face-to-face interaction. Snotty, yes, but at least these people participate in something that actually exists.

*This article was written by Warren St. John, who I sort of praised to the hilt in a previous post on his book Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer. St. John should quit his day job; he is too talented to be writing about this crap.