Next Time, Bring Your Sister Ya Hump
Don't get me wrong, I love technology and the internet so much it makes my dick hard just thinking about it. I think everyone having a voice to openly discuss things without fear of (non-textual) reprisal is great. I look forward to the day when we all have locale chips implanted in our skulls and all signs in public places have resource bundle keys instead of hardcoded localized text. And I love bloggers and puppies and warm spring days and a portion of my fellow human beings that is rapidly approaching 15%.
That being said, I am amazed that, with the number of creative outlets available to people today, over half the blogs I've read (and the only one I've written) look like an excerpt from John Doe's diary:
On the subway today, a man came up to me to start a conversation. He made small talk, a lonely man talking about the weather and other things. I tried to be pleasant and accommodating, but my head hurt from his banality. I almost didn't notice it had happened, but I suddenly threw up all over him. He was not pleased, and I couldn't stop laughing.
I have more publishing power on my desk than entire societies in history. With the internet, I could potentially distribute my rantings to millions of people across the globe. Unfortunately, it's just too easy and too accessible and I'm just too enamored with shiny objects. So, the best I can manage is to put pussies on the backs of mice.
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