Sigh. This stupid world of blogs. I think about it and, I mean, what is this really but just an avenue for my opinions on stuff & a way to make people read them rather than listen to me tell them. Nobody wants that. Because if you do THAT, people glaze over & drift off & start thinking, "who cares? wonder if there's any chip dip in the fridge? I need to pee..." But given the fact that no one actually reads anymore except for the internet, blogs give people a chance to reply to one's tirades with a thumbs up, thumbs down, or an entirely different opinion that is or isn't related to what they're replying to.
And unless you're Bai Ling (look it up), who's actually responding to your blog? Your friends, if you have any? Your family, if they can be arsed? Maybe blogging is just another form of keeping a diary, but a bit more random than "day 13: today I finally pushed away from the dinner table..."
I don't care. Did I figure everyone would tell everyone else about my fab blog site, & people everywhere would read it, and somehow Dave Berry or David Sedaris or somebody would catch wind & start commenting back to me. To ME. And, y'know, the page wouldn't have to change because it's MY blog and the reason they're all reading it & commenting is because it isn't themselves. But maybe they can relate. Or the total opposite. Any reaction is better than none at all. Isn't that right, Bill O'Reilly?
I had a pretty involved post going in draftland, about how Lindsay Lohan isn't gay (she isn't, y'know) and how her friend is a Pete Doherty wannabe and the sister of "gee I'm lucky, I hope no one finds out how talentless I really am" producer Mark Ronson, then I started thinking "does anyone even know who Pete f#*king Doherty is? or Mark f#*king Ronson?" It sucks when no one gets what you're writing about. And that's not a comment on people's intelligence, it just means most stuff really doesn't mean anything to anyone. Like I'm surprised I even know who Bai Ling is, except I she was popping up in some of the stuff I read online (indicative of what?), & I felt the need to look her up (she seems enigmatic. also she's fairly stupid and shallow. I like that, but I don't actually like her).
Blogging is the 21st century t-shirt. Way back when, the t-shirt was the way to let people know you were pro-Foghat. Before that it was the bumper sticker - "Vote 'yes' on 'C'". But now, we have become such complex beings that it takes a whole series of promotional shitfests to get people to get us.
Back in the punk days it was so much simpler, I honestly didn't care who got me. I got me. Maybe my friends got me, grudgingly. Now my friends who got me are dead, and there isn't enough time for new friends to get me. That's why we have blogsites. You can get me at your leisure, that is if I'm telling the truth.
2 comments:
hey, i get you. and, i know who those people are too!
when i was younger i enjoyed being "different" or "odd".
now, i don't give a s#%#, no-one left to impress.....
I bet there are people in this audience wondering what IKE DICK is (sounds kinda creepy to me). My son, for instance knew Nixon was called Tricky Dick, but not so sure about the relationship with IKE and why one would wear an IKE DICK button. He also knows he's the guy on the dime - which actually reminds me of a hilarious story ... and why I wanted to post, so I digress:
I was sent by the editor of the little paper I wrote for to do a story about a huge bequest of land to the State Of Florida granted by a rich guy because it had all sorts of historical Native American sites/artificats. Well, the event was much bigger than anyone knew. All sorts of big wigs were in attendance. Ike's grandson was writing a book on that particular tribe. We met at the reception (a gala affair in a huge tent on the property).
I was very casual with him, which apparently didn't set well with a "The University Of Florida" professor and historical author. This jerk asks me: "Do you know WHO this is?"
I looked at the man before me, put my hand to my chin thinking, then pointed excitedly and blurted: "You're the guy on the dime!" (He looked JUST like Ike at the time).
David (Eisnehower) loved it, much to the dismay of the snooty prof., and we drank a couple beers and went on a great airboat ride discussing life in the White House (his father worked at the White House during this period of time and he was there a lot). Camp David was named after him.
We talked about all sort of things (he was VERY cool and very intelligent). He was writing the book so people would take him seriously as a historical author - not just the son of some huge historical figure. Also, he probably felt some sting as the song, Fortunate Son was inspired by him. And a GREAT song it is indeed!
(Hey, Bobo, you didn't think this could come around to rock n roll, did you?)
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