In the most annoying sensation to hit Facebook since those Farmville updates began crowding your homepage, people all across America have replaced their profile pictures with that of their celebrity doppelgängers (or celebrity look-a-likes for those of you who did not study four years of German at the University of Düsseldorf.)

You see, it’s not the idea of doppelgänger profile pictures that annoys me, but the practice. Allow me to explain.

I go on Facebook for one reason and one reason only: to stalk hot women. Now I am incapable of seeing how hot these women actually are now that their profile picture has been replaced by Megan Fox or Zooey Deschanel. And I’m a little ticked off at the very vain ugly people putting extremely attractive people as their doppelgängers. Really, you think you look like Penelope Cruz? Buddy, you really think you look like that shirtless Amerindian from Twilight? Really?

But I am a slave to pop culture zeitgeists, and decided to discover my own celebrity doppelgänger. I plugged my photograph into a program on MyHeritage.com, and was quite surprised at the outcome.

For those of you wondering, yes, I am a white man.

But is this fascination with celebrity doppelgängers exclusive only to non-famous folk? Could I go onto Nick Nolte’s Facebook page and find his profile picture replaced with that of Gary Busey? What about Bill Paxton and Bill Pullman? Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley? Javier Bardem and Jeffrey Dean Morgan? Amy Adams and Isla Fisher? Johnny Depp and Skeet Ulrich? Paul McCartney and Angela Lansbury?!

But like all internet sensations, this one may disappear faster than a panda sneezing. So let us enjoy the minor pleasures, like the girl who mistakenly believes she looks like Halle Berry, or the dude that looks suspiciously like Quentin Tarantino, or the relative of mine who asks if I’ve recently been tanning.

I think someone is stalking me. It’s… it’s terrible. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I just stay awake for hours, too frightened to leave the valley, let alone my apartment.  I’ve gone to the police. Nothing. I’ve called my lawyer. Nothing. Nothing can be done to stop this maniac from harassing me. To make matters worse, this nut-job has actually made contact, VIRTUAL contact with me that I cannot ignore. Alright, I’m just going to come out and say it. Deep breath, Josh, deep breath…

Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa is following me…. ON TWITTER.

This has gone too far. First, it was Facebook. You know, just some light flirtation. A “come to the general discussion of DMV furloughs” here, a “town hall meeting regarding the future site of the Subway to the Sea” there; I thought it was harmless. But this man is unrelenting. He wants nothing more than to hit me where it hurts… 140 characters at a time.

My anxiety hasn’t been this bad since that thing last year with Michael Ian Black.

By now, most people have left the social networking kiddie pool of MySpace and switched to Facebook or Twitter.  Still, a few of us just can’t abandon the profiles that we spent so much time fine tuning to reflect our individual personalities.  Without MySpace, how would we know when Hanson is going to play another show in our city (I checked, they actually do have a profile)?

Anyway, I logged out of this relic of a website the other day and I saw an advertisement on the side of the page that scared the living sh*t out of me.

This is an ad for a website that directs you towards schools of criminal justice in your area.  A fine enough service, but their strategy to lure in users is downright reckless.

There is a faceless man in black handing a gun to whoever is willing to answer the call.  It’s as if he’s saying, “Hey, tough guy, you want a way to impress that ex-girlfriend whose profile you’ve been browsing for the last thirty minutes?  Why don’t you get a job that allows you to carry a gun?”  And of course, because he’s a faceless man in black (executioner?), he will never be held accountable for the effect this ad will have on aggressive men with high testosterone.

Also, the headline is “Become FBI, SWAT, or a Police Officer.”  Notice how all the classic crime films gets addressed.  This is misleading because most of the people that use this service will actually become security guards (see comedy genre).  Even so, the positions are ordered in a very odd way.  FBI: really prestigious , SWAT: extremely prestigious, Police Officer: fairly prestigious.  It’s as if they cycled through the average assh*le’s wildest dreams, then threw in the one that was slightly possible at the end.

I am terrified by the idea that MySpace users may enter into a career in law enforcement because of a badass man with a gun said they could.  I would hate to get beaten down by an officer one day and then the next day see a bulletin reading, “Just racially profiled somebody… Whoops!”  Luckily, many precincts are in a hiring freeze because of the recession.  That may be the only positive of this entire economic downfall.

Yet again, there is to be another Michael Jackson candle light vigil. Come one come all ye fanatics that apparently have nothing left to do! And to prove that infallible fact Laura Butson, self-appointed czar of the Jackson mass, has sent out a Facebook message urging her fellow monarchy supporters to attend this rag-tag event. However, though Butson already has 1,000 “confirmed” guests locked in, they can expect no concert or live music to speak of. Ratty second hand speakers from Radio Shack will be the laborers of Jackson’s musical career.

Much like the tears over spilled milk, this mourning is needless. Frankly, I didn’t know that the position of mourner was a full-time job. Aren’t there children to be raised, bills to be paid, and actual relationships to maintain?

This makeshift tribute is a hollow capsule for fans to sink their money and time into. Though Michael Jackson was a true son of entertainment, his sexually perverse and willfully ignorant lifestyle is nothing to mourn. The man, Michael Jackson, died in 1990 and was laid to rest with an absence in attendance in a coffin forged from his childhood memoirs.

Status Update: Jess Levith is no longer on Facebook.

Facebook, you can eat it. You’ve proven to be even more toxic than Myspace. Sure, you guise yourself as the conservative, responsible, even MATURE social networking web site. One that my grandmother feels comfortable logging onto before her morning vitamins. But you are evil Facebook, and I must now bid you farewell. You and all of my 465 friends.

Too many quizzes.Too man ex-boyfriend-is-newly-engaged-announcements. Too many high school bullies that have made a 12-step amends to me and want me to forgive them for hanging me over the second floor banister. -I hate you Facebook. You’ve wasted my life!

Sure, i’ve tried to quit before, and was soon lured back by a “Gary’s written something on your wall”, or a “Kathy’s commented on your picture”. -But, never again! No way Facebook. I just can’t do it. You’ve made me cry. You’ve made me punch a pillow. You’ve… -Wait… Wait, hold on I’m getting a text… Colin Gregory just poked me? I haven’t spoken to Colin in ages! Maybe… -Maybe he wants to hang out? I should reactivate, just to check this one thing out…

24-year-old Stephanie Simmers of Orange County, “came out” as a lesbian last Friday to her friends and family at her church potluck. According to partygoers, it was because she had just taken the Facebook Quiz “How Gay Are You?” that rated her as 97% gay.

“We were all deeply shocked”, says Stephanie’s mother, Greta Simmers. “She had been engaged to Bobby Goodling for almost two years and the wedding was planned for August!”

Stephanie showed up around 2pm, arm in arm with a large woman in tight jeans, motorcycle boots, and a ribbed tank. The woman’s hair was slicked back and Stephanie wasn’t wearing a bra. “Dolores seemed nice and all”, said Stephanie’s mother, “But Stephanie had never even mentioned liking a  girl before.”

Minutes later, fellow congregants said that Bobby Goodling hit his knees, crying out “It was just a stupid F*cking Facebook quiz. They’re totally unfounded, social time-wasters. Please baby, don’t take it literally!” To which Stephanie replied: “But the results were posted on my wall and now everyone’s gonna think I’m gay. -And anyway, if I try to deny it, I’ll be ostracized by my new lesbian family.”

The church pastor shrugged, tossed his bible into the nearby creek and walked off. Bobby Goodling ran out of the garden, crying, because he now knew what he had to do… He had just taken the Facebook quiz: “How Suicidal Are You?” and scored a 98%.