We’re All Jerks
Ed. note: this is excerpted from an old space, as per my trend of late; but there is a slight twist of relevance to recent proceedings. I happened upon it quite without intending to. I’ll let the reader decide if that was a resultant of statistical mechanics, or at the hand of some interested party. It’s unabashedly trite on the surface.
The banality of these spaces, wherein people divulge all manner of personal detail, intimate or not, is the state-of-the-art. Somehow, the masses who’ve made their pilgramage to the “blogosphere” (here denoted in quotation marks as per the trend of dismission) have succeeded not in creating networks of profound human interest, but instead have synthesized a culture with an unprecedentedly bland flavor.
What folks uttering such seem to be missing is that the whole of humanity are an utterly craven, boring, bland bunch. Spin doctors and half-assed ethnobiology aside, the fact that some among us can solve partial differential equations or craft epic poetry is little defense to the wake of countless examples of fundamental insipidity. Not quite countless, I suppose—we’re at, what, about six billion now?
We are, at our collective heart, a boring species, though no more or less than any other. That anyone wastes time to maintain a website chronicling his life as a trans-gendered cat lover who knits prosthetic schlongs from calico yarn as a testament to creative irony is simple evidence that they should.
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