I’ve been checking out Friendster profiles, and found out how many people use MyHeritage to establish themselves as “celebrities.” MyHeritage is the 21st century equivalent of deluded beliefs of looking like celebrities.
It’s not that I’m immune from delusions: I take medication for delusions. So to humor myself, I ran the MyHeritage face recognition on two of my better pictures (my yearbook pictures) and I was pleasantly surprised.
And needless to say, my ego is inflated to the size of a scrotum stung by a thousand killer bees: the hypothesis being that all MyHeritage users are deluded.
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Exhibit A: Me without glasses:
72% Mary-Louise Parker, 72% Lalaine, 70% Joshua Jackson, 68% Jonathan Rhys Meyers, 68% Andie McDowell, 67% Gary Cooper, 66% Richard Dean Anderson, 66% Ernest Hemingway, 64% Chew Chor Meng, 63% Keanu Reeves.
I heart MyHeritage: I have a strong resemblance to Ernest Hemingway, McGyver, and Keanu Reeves. It figures: I read a lot of Hemingway, I watched (to a certain extent) “Babylon 5,” and MyHeritage was not the first time I was compared to Neo (that distinction goes to Krissa). And like Keanu Reeves, I can’t act my way out of a paper bag.
Exhibit B: Me with glasses:
63% Joey Yung, 62% Daviegh Chase, 61% Takizawa Hideyaki, 58% Megan Ewing, 58% Vivien Leigh, 57% Woranuch Wongsawan, 57% Siti Nurhaliza, 56% Son Ye-jin, 56% Michael Vartan, 56% Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Save for a celebrity named “Takizawa Hideyaki” and Michael Vartan of “Alias” and “Never Been Kissed” fame, I find MyHeritage to be dubious: how in the heck do I look like Zsa Zsa Gabor? I mean, I’m the first one to admit that I look like a woman, but this is ridiculous. I don’t heart MyHeritage.
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Because I don’t heart MyHeritage, I think that people who use face-recognition technology from Shockwave Flash objects in the Internet – and take it seriously – are fools. Insecure, pitiful wretches. Canker sores on the herpes-infested mouth that is the indifferent society. Hemorrhoids in the inflamed anus that is the world. Stray bits of feces in the rectal hair of stray dogs. Vain souls who should be first in line at the purge of sinners at Armageddon. Locusts on the fallowed fields of life itself. People who should be rolled into the city square chained naked into wooden cages, hanged in the gallows, dunked in boiling asphalt, paved into a road, and ran over with a steamroller.
As it seems, a couple of my friends have posted MyHeritage-related stuff in their personal websites. I don’t know about friends who look 68% like Matt Damon, or 74% like Charlize Theron. He sure as hell doesn’t look like Matt Damon, and she looks more like Anne Curtis than Charlize Theron.
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But there really is no substitute to flattery: the kind of “MyHeritage” that does not require an Internet connection. Take my dad, for example. Here’s a 52-year-old man with a balding spot at the top of his head the size of a personal pizza, and he compares himself to Sam Milby and (goodness gracious) John Lloyd Cruz. I love my dad and all, but I don’t see him in “Maging Sino Ka Man” anytime soon. And oh yeah, his dancing skills are enough to win him P5,000 in “Wowowee.”
On the outset, however, I did inherit the genetic trait of celebrity delusion from him, but of a different sort. Last night, my friends jokingly alluded to me looking like Ryan Agoncillo in “Ysabella,” when he used hair extensions.
Needless to say, I was flattered. Go ahead, flatten me with a steamroller.