An observation about Myspace bulletins

If I were to stop reading them altogether, I’d have saved myself a lot of trouble. Cumulatively, by opening them, I’ve sentenced myself to about seventy years of ill luck in love, life, and so forth. Mind you, the prescribed punishments for not forwarding the inanity tend on the side of inanity themselves: perhaps all I have really sentenced myself to is boredom — it’s hardly ill luck if nothing happens at all.

Still, the fires of bulletins, fuelled teen angst, sweep onwards (over the barren plane?) …

Please tell me why these things (SocNets) are at all compelling?