Every post on Sarcastic MySpace lives in one of these five corners. They're the genres that defined a generation of geocities, glitter GIFs, and 14-year-olds with too much HTML knowledge. Pick a hallway. Wander slowly.
Each category has its own editor, its own mood, and its own terrifyingly deep tag taxonomy. Hover for a preview. Click for the deep dive.
Tom. Everybody's first friend. The Top 8 that ended friendships. The "about me" paragraph written in alternating Comic Sans and Wingdings because your cousin said it looked "edgy." This is the altar where we lay those glittering, deeply personal shrines to a personality that didn't exist yet.
Enter ProfilesCompression artifacts, intentional or not. The DataMoshing era, the CRT scan-line obsession, the "what if a JPEG cried" school. We catalog the worst-běst web graphics ever made — pixelated banners for bands that never toured, footer dividers made of melting cubes, the entire deviantART golden age.
Enter Glitch ArtThe away message. The 3,400-character limit. The buddy icon rotation. The user-invisible trick that didn't work. We have a complete archive of "brb dinner," the entire "(: ♥) Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥ ☆" lexicon, and the time Sarah said "k" at 11:47pm and changed the course of seventh grade forever.
Enter AIM MemoriesSide-swept bangs, neon wristbands, the word "rawr" written in lowercase Helvetica, and a Myspace layout CSS so custom it took longer than a college essay. We honor the X's on the hands, the phrase "oh em gee" in every capital, and the time neon green was a personality trait, not a color.
Enter Scene KidsThe blinking text. The MIDI files that started without permission. The visitor counter that said "you are visitor 1,000,000." Geocities neighborhoods, tripod.frames, the under construction GIF, the lynx browser. We have entire city blocks archived in static HTML, lava lamps and all.
Enter Web 1.0Friendster comments. LiveJournal posts at 2am. Xanga "recent visitors" that read like a stack of subpoenas. The digital diary entry that begins with "dear diary" and ends with "ps i'm not okay." A newer archive, but somehow the most haunting aisle in the building.
Enter ConfessionsAdding something to the archive isn't a casual decision. Every entry passes three reviewers, two lawyers (one of them is a Tumblr mutual), and a vibe check. Here's what makes a piece of internet history worth remembering.
The more specific, the more universal. A profile that says "i like pizza and the beach" doesn't make the cut. A profile that says "i like pizza from that one place on 5th that closed in 2009 and i still think about it" gets the front page of its category.
If something was supposed to render one way and rendered another, it belongs here. The error IS the content. We preserve the broken banner, the misaligned div, the 88x31 button that no longer clicks through, the marquee tag that scrolled too fast.
We archive with side-eye, never contempt. These were real people having real first feelings on a platform that let them. The writing might be cringey. The feelings underneath were not. Every entry gets a small editor's note that honors the human behind the angle brackets.
A screenshot. A profile. An away message. A bulletin board post from 2007. If you have a piece of the internet that deserves to be remembered (and gently mocked with love), send it our way. Every submission is read by a real person, usually with coffee.