Cyber slavery

Look, I'll put it out there: there are some areas of thinkingness in which I am rather deficient. I know that everyone has a few life-arenas in which they wouldn't want to play gladiator, whether it be fixing taps, driving on the right side of the road, or remembering to put their knickers on before they leave the house. In my case, tecknologee and fiscal management are always precursors to a case of blown fuse. I just can't help it, no matter what I do, cash and computers simply gravitate towards the segment of my brain that thought 'Impeded View' was a support act, rather than an unfortunate seat, at the Radiohead concert.

Now, I'm quite happy to admit that I'm not up with the latest in techno-wizzbangery, I don't do my own tax, and I've always thought that economics seemed to be the antithesis of good ole fashioned common sense: how the price of bananas can transform a biro into a luxury good remains a mystery. Thus, as I'm sure you can appreciate, when the combination of the two popped up on my facebook notifications, I was mighty puzzled. Apparently, in the Gospel According to Mark Zuckerberg: "X now owns you as a pet! You were bought for $556, earning you $25 in profit!". I had to look at this twice, and not only because the appearance of two exclamation marks so close together tends to hurt my eyes.

It seems that I had earned money for doing sweet FA; a novel experience for someone who has passed their time in such lucrative industries as retail, administration, and higher education. Free money! Visions flashed before my eyes - designer clothes, a cool haircut, and perhaps a new tin of lentils had all been made possible by my unthinking descent into servitude ... huzzah!

And yet, in the midst of being measured for my new harness, I spat out my bit and had a sudden thought: what does this all mean? What are the ramifications of being a cyberpet? Do I now have to wash my hair through a mobile grooming service (which, on second thoughts, could actually be quite good)? More importantly, can I still roam the interneighbourhood at will, leaving my mark on other blogs around the block?

As I pondered these existential issues, I also began to have some doubts about the fitness of my owner for the task. To put it in context, X is a lad I don't know too well from school, whose friend request was accepted in a fit of late night facebook-induced frenzy. X also publishes status updates which detail his drink driving charges, and photos of himself with a gun ...

Um, actually, on that note, I think I might go edit my profile privacy.