There’s no doubt that unless you’ve been eating Rice Krispies in a hole for the past year, you know a thing or two about the social networking site, My Space. In many ways, My Space is the sign of a pulse—a collective pulse—amongst the Me Generation. It’s ground zero for “LOL” and “WTF” and other oh-so-youthful shortcuts to conversation that the Me Generation puts to good use.
My Death Space is exactly what it says it is. It’s My Space for My Space members who have prematurely gone six feet under. The site is basically a map of the United States, dotted with little gravestone symbols, each of which link to the how and why of a My Space member’s premature death, as well as to the link to the person’s My Space page where friends have inevitably left pages of tributes. In other words, “LOL” becomes “i miss u” and “i love u.”
Because My Space is the domain of the young folk, 99.9 percent of the dead are between the ages of 15 and 25. Pictures pop up of these kids kicking it in their cars, giving peace signs, arms draped around their friends, smiling, and alive. Then you see the causes of death: 99.9 percent are “automobile accident.” A few murders, brain hemorrhages, and suicides are thrown in for the mix, but the site drives home (no morbid pun intended) the dangers of driving. Drunk driving, drag racing, sitting at a stoplight, minding their own business behind the wheel: The scenarios vary but the message is the same. Cars kill.
It’s not an easy site to visit. Breaks the heart, in fact. But I came away from it with my daily reminder of mortality…and humanity.