No Title...Too...Lazy...
What's Playing in my Head: "Frank Sinatra", by Cake
Quote of the Day: "I love to go down to the schoolyard and watch all the little children jump up and down and run around yelling and screaming. They don't know I'm only using blanks." - Emo Phillips
Okay, so it's been a week and a half now, which means that we're about halfway through this little experiment. I will say that so far things are going well, which means that I'm having fun writing this thing.
The fact that I have a blog, though, is a pretty dismal statement for our society. If I can write all kinds of crap on a daily basis that when you get right down to it nobody cares about, who can't? Soon, just about everyone who isn't over the age of 90 or physically unable to move their fingers will either have a blog, or have had one (before giving it up in inglorious failure). All in pursuit of that elusive 15 minutes (or 15 seconds) of fame.
Pretty soon, even my girlfriend's five-year-old daughter will have one:
GF: How was school, honey?
D: I dunno, mommy. You can read 'bout it in my blog.
GF: Your blog?
D: Yes. It's at rulesaredumb-dot-blogspot-dot-com.
GF: ...
I think the reason why I'm having fun doing this so far is that I take this basically as a daily journal, an opportunity for the demon monkeys in my head to have their message heard (Patton Oswalt quote, folks), rather than writing content. I think once bloggers start thinking of themselves as some sort of new-age internet columnists providing content (there's that vague word again), they're doomed. Because so very few bloggers actually succeed at getting recognized as legitimate, rather than as just some dorf sitting in his underwear ranting on the Internet.
Anyway, for the few reading this, thanks. I should be good for another week, at least.
3 Comments:
I agree that trying to provide true content is a death knell for a blogger. Because then it turns into work, unpaid work at that, and who needs that? Better to broadcast a daily collection of random neural firings.
Also, regarding the second-to-last sentence: Promise us all that you aren't sitting around in your underwear when you write this. Even if you actually are, please lie and say you aren't.
I figure I can always be Larry King if I want to. Whose career amounts to little more than random neural firings.
On the last sentence, of course I was kidding. I never wear underwear.
Wait for it...wait for it...
Gee, thanks for loading me up with that visual, pal.
Post a Comment
<< Home