Shakespeare would have understood the emo thing; life's but a walking shadow, he would have observed, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. And the mid- to late teens populating this community would have agreed, whilst nevertheless getting happily drunk and uploading awkward photographs of themselves reflected in their bathroom mirrors.

Whatever excesses are displayed here, I'm quite confident that the vast majority of members will evolve into whatever passes for normal adulthood by the time they get there. I would be concerned, perhaps, as a parent, but a darned sight more concerned about some of the adults who populate the web's human sideshows. They never grew out of it and are infinitely more threatening.

If the creators of MySpace had left instructions to freak out anyone over 25, and nine out of ten parents, and not by appalling web design, hideous noise and ghastly commercialism, it might have looked like this. Yes, it's populated by high-school and college-age teens who are, as coming-of-age movies are won't to describe it, exploring their sexuality. Yes, it's populated by pubescent girls - and in some cases boys - in zombie makeup and frequently somewhat underdressed for the occasion. But although more explicit material may well pass in private, I saw nothing here that would raise an eyebrow or anything much else on the beach.

If I had to offer up a serious concern, it's that the experience for a much older adult is uncomfortably like wandering unseen around a residential dorm after hours. Those who are attracted erotically to such a scenario are going to be in their element. For the rest of us, the keyword is "uncomfortably", because as voyeuristic as this might be, there's a limit to the amount of teenage angst you can cope with before the desire to do something reassuringly vital in the real world sets in.

Compared to the textual communities of the past, the faux-daring imagery and ubiquitous YouTube clippings of today's teen venues promise a heightened sense of presence, but can't deliver the intensity of feelings that a solid paragraph of pure pubescent misery can bring to the page. Despite the spikes and the vampire makeup, this is less scary than, say, Tripod.com, back in the late '90s when the adolescent anguish dripped from every line of every page and formed a small pool of suffering somewhere down there by the copyright line.

i get bann for nothing and they call me a perv witch they have under age girls posting nudes bra and panties and talking sex to 18+ guys and girls r 14 15 16