Caught on

In March, when I started Caught on Chatroulette, I thought I hit a virtual oil well of posts that would last for generations of Sugar Shack Southie instances.  However, somewhere shortly thereafter, that oil well sprung a leak deep within the ones and zeros of the Internet’s vast ocean.  Until this point, the barrier of courtesy between mainstream social networking and burgeoning Internet porn technology remained relatively unmolested.  However, Chatroulette has now become the abandoned bath house of Web 2.0.  A place where people could once share their ideas on a sunny day has now turned into a shady hangout for anonymous men and their penises.  Every time you see a kid around, you shout out, “Hey! Get away from there!  It’s not safe anymore!  You need an adult!”

Chatroulette becomes self-aware.

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