1️⃣ 🚨 It Looks Desperate – Some recruiters might see it as a sign that you’re struggling to find work.

2️⃣ 💰 You Might Get Lowballed – Employers could assume you’re willing to take a lower salary.

3️⃣ ⚠️ Attracts the Wrong Attention – Expect spammy job offers, MLMs, and irrelevant roles.

4️⃣ 👀 Your Boss Might See It – Even if set to private, it’s risky if your employer finds out.

5️⃣ 🔍 Better Ways to Get Noticed – Optimize your profile, engage with content, and network instead.

✅ What to Do Instead:
Update your headline, showcase your skills, and engage with industry leaders to attract the right opportunities—without the green flag!

Once upon a time, MySpace was the chaotic Wild West of the internet—a digital jungle of blaring autoplay music, glittery backgrounds, and desperate self-promotion.

And now? LinkedIn has become its corporate cousin, drowning in cringy hustle culture, spam, and shameless self-promotion. It’s like MySpace grew up, put on a cheap suit from TJ Maxx, and started calling itself an entrepreneur.

Let’s break it down:

Spam, Spam, and More Spam

• MySpace: Sketchy friend requests from bands you’ve never heard of (lookin’ at you, “The Screaming Pineapples”).

• LinkedIn: Cold DMs from thought leaders who want to transform your business with AI-powered synergy.

• Bonus: That one person who keeps sending “Hey [First Name], I see we have mutual interests…” messages every month.

Self-Promotion Overload

• MySpace: Emo kids posting Fall Out Boy lyrics as a personality trait.

• LinkedIn: “I woke up at 4 AM, read 12 books, ran a marathon, and closed a $5M deal before breakfast. What’s your excuse?”

• Bonus: The guy who posts a selfie crying, claiming it’s about personal growth.

Fake Friendships & Phony Networking

• MySpace: Random adds from people you barely knew in middle school (who now have very questionable political takes).

• LinkedIn: That coworker from three jobs ago who suddenly wants to “hop on a quick call.”

• Bonus: That “Let’s connect!” message, immediately followed by a sales pitch.

Cringe-Worthy Inspirational Posts

• MySpace: “Rawr XD” and cryptic breakup posts with Dashboard Confessional lyrics.

• LinkedIn: “I got fired, slept in my car, ate nothing but ramen, and now I’m CEO of a unicorn startup. Never give up!”

• Bonus: That one person who tells a long, dramatic story that somehow ends in “That’s why I sell real estate now.”

Engagement Farming at Its Worst

• MySpace: “Like this if you think pizza is life!”

• LinkedIn: “Would you rather have $1,000,000 or lunch with Warren Buffett? COMMENT BELOW!”

• Bonus: The person who posts a random stock photo of a handshake with “Thoughts?”

Annoying Video Content

• MySpace: Over-edited music videos with flashing text and bad green screen effects.

• LinkedIn: 3-minute monologues from “entrepreneurs” explaining how they crushed adversity with mindset.

• Bonus: That one guy who records a selfie video while walking aggressively down the street.

Random Strangers Acting Like Your Best Friend

• MySpace: “Hey, you seem cool, wanna be friends?”

• LinkedIn: “I see we have one mutual connection. Let’s collaborate on an exciting opportunity!”

• Bonus: The “I love your work!” message from someone who has clearly never seen your work.

Algorithm Chaos

• MySpace: No logic to your feed—just a mess of profile updates, song playlists, and glitter text.

• LinkedIn: No logic to your feed—just a mix of job updates, humblebrags, and someone selling an NFT course.

• Bonus: That one post from two weeks ago that suddenly gets revived like a zombie engagement post.

Conclusion: Same Trash, Different Suit

LinkedIn is basically MySpace in a suit and tie—less glitter, more corporate jargon, but still packed with noise, self-promotion, and awkward networking.

No one remembers the old Constitution anymore. Sure, it still exists—printed in history books no one reads, whispered about in private corners by the old and paranoid. But it has no weight, no authority. The real power belongs to the Emperor, the figure who rose above the forgotten relic of democracy, above the President, above the illusion of choice.

In America 2.0, identity is no longer a fragile slip of paper hidden in drawers or locked in filing cabinets. Birth certificates are inked into flesh at birth, seared onto chins or the back of necks in elegant, glowing tattoos—permanent, unforgeable proof of existence. They pulse softly under ultraviolet scanners, granting access, defining worth. The tattoo is everything. No tattoo, no citizenship.

There are no illegal aliens anymore. The Emperor saw to that. Borders were sealed, mass purges executed with chilling efficiency. America is clean now—pure, streamlined, controlled. The streets are quieter. The system, smoother.

But beneath the gloss of utopia, beneath the neon lights and towering marble halls of the ruling class, there exists the undesirables—the sick, the disabled, the poor. Their tattoos are different, marked with black etchings that separate them from the worthy. Their status is less than human. They live in the farms, sprawling stretches of land where the weak are sent to serve the strong. They plant. They harvest. They sweat beneath the sun until their bodies break.

Once, a mother wept when she saw her baby’s tattoo darken at birth. Low class. Useless. Farm-bound. She begged. Pleaded. But the officials only laughed. “Should have worked harder,” they told her. “Should have been born better.”

The Emperor’s world has no place for the weak.

In the glittering cities, the citizens of America 2.0 live under the watchful eye of the System. Surveillance is absolute. Privacy, a myth. Every transaction, every movement, every whisper is recorded, analyzed, archived. And yet, people smile. They cheer for the Emperor in grand processions, swear their loyalty in public squares. Because to do otherwise is to disappear.

And so, America moves forward—its past buried, its future sealed in ink and flesh. A land reborn, remade, ruthless.