Tom, I’ve never met you. But I have to say, I don’t like the cut of your jib. You were the first one to contact me when I joined MySpace, and I was happy about that. I felt welcomed, and appreciated. Since then, you haven’t attempted to get to know me at all. Tom, you’re an asshole, and are probably one of the worst friends I’ve ever had.

You told me to contact you if I was ever confused about anything, and I’ve e-mailed you countless times, but nothing. Mostly, I just wanted to see how things were going. “Hey Tom, how’s Santa Monica?” or “Did you see Talladega Nights Tom? It was SO funny!” You never even gave me a “go away.” Jackass.

Sometimes, I just wanted a little advice on how to use MySpace effectively – after all, it looks like it was created by a coked-up web designer who got his inspiration from Japanese game shows.

I even checked your “FAQ” section, but it answered none of my questions. And I’m a bit spiteful about it, Tom. Pretty fucking disappointed as well.

My guess, Tom, is that you’re just another MySpace whore, racking up the “Friends” list with folks you never intend to actually befriend. 200 million friends, eh? Wow, you must have a really big dick. I bet you drive a Benz too, and dress in the finest linens, eating only the choicest meats and cheeses. You self-indulgent prick.

What’s more, your taste in music is a fucking travesty, Tom. Michael Jackson (age 14 & under), Karen Carpenter, Whitney Houston (particularly The Bodyguard soundtrack), George Michael, Louie Louie, Robin Zander, Frank Sinatra, Steve Perry, Gerard Way, Kelly Clarkson… are you deaf Tom?

Sinatra is fine, but he sure isn’t your saving grace for that list. Not even close.

I guess to cut to the chase, you disgust me. Tom: no matter what you may think, you are not my friend. You have been selected, and deleted. Rot in hell.