Long before technology really had grasp on the world (because I feel myself to be oh-so-old), I recall spending an obscene amount of time ensuring that my MySpace was just so. HTML gave me and all the hormone-driven teenagers something to do with themselves when they should be writing up homework, but would much rather be stuck in the back of someone's car playing with the hem of their crush's shirt, their heart all aflutter- but alas! It's a school night. There was art to it that involved no small form of thievery. As anyone scrolled through MySpace looking for new exotic teenagers (not persons in general, because anyone over 25 felt creepy) and found themselves struck by that amazing new thing that Jessica (it was always Jessica who had so many advantages) had moving, dancing or otherwise tantalizing across their screen on her virtual home, anyone could rest easy if they only knew how to search through the code and pick out that unfamiliar thing. Copy and paste. It'...