This hippie/raver hybrid piece of shit comes up when you type in ‘Alice In Wonderland’. I weep.
Make an effort.
Guess what? That £700 SLR Daddy bought you, because he still feels badly about getting caught fucking the Filipino housekeeper and your parents’ subsequent divorce, didn’t magically make you a good photographer. You’re still a shit photographer whos portfolio strongly resembles a care in the community project. I’m not saying you have to be Ansel Adams. Not being a douchebag is good enough for me.
Don’t use ugly, gigantic watermarks.
Now when I think of pictures of 14 year old girls with plastic fangs and ketchup smeared over their mouths looking moodily into a camera, barely visible underneath poorly superimposed ‘My Immortal’ lyrics, I will think of ‘Jayne Marshall Photography’.
Don’t have the word ‘photography’ in your screen name.
No fucking duh, Vos Savant.
Please, no more lampposts.
Or cars covered in frost. Or pebbles. Or flowers. Those pictures are always boring to look at and lazy as shit.
And while we are the subject, no more ‘alternative’ Alice in Wonderland shoots. They’re not interesting, or edgy, or original. We all know you barely understood the Disney version, haven’t even considered reading the book and that the only reason that 17 year old slutty emo ‘model’ agreed to do it is because she was heady in the knowledge that for the first time she could squat, legs spread, in front of a camera with impunity, sans the hurtful truth box comments and potential public backlash, all ‘in the name of art’. Fuck you both. Go live out your Gothic Lolita fantasies on Vampire Freaks, assholes.
Don’t add me, you pervert.
I’d like to pretend I’m totally desensitized to weird shit, but your gallery that is nothing but camera phone pictures of pregnant womens’ feet actually makes me a bit squeamish. And believe me, favouriting any picture with a female in it and then messaging me for ‘larger versions’ is only compounding the problem.
I hope you will abide by these rules and that together we can make flickr a happy, fun place that doesn’t make me want to pull a Columbine* at a 30 Seconds To Mars concert.
*For any potential marauding web detectives; I would never actually do this.