Hammer of the Blogs
You know, I'm not exactly what you'd call an internet enthusiast. Yeah, I check the Dodgers scores online, & the results at Hollywood Park/Santa Anita, & loosely follow the MMA scene, & read the Onion every Tuesday, & check to see if GWAR is making a new record, but that's about it. Well, mostly, at least. Anyways, I don't really keep tabs on other people's blogs. And hoo-ee, look at what I've been missing! Apparently I'm not the only dork who feels obliged to espouse his most trivial views as if they were gospel. Well guess what, people...your blogs suck!!!
My friend at work sent me a link to some dude who thought it would be cute if he kept a blog & acted like he was Darth Vader (yes, back to Star Wars, just for a minute), so the posts were like an inside look at his mind. And you thought Star Wars fan fiction was bad! Darth Vader's diary. Even if the concept wasn't a terribly misconceived abomination, he routinely strayed from the story & took cute little "liberties" in order to make the dreary reading a bit less painful to it's readers. So he couldn't even do that right.
Then my girlfriend shows me some site, "Blogging LA" or something, which is basically a journal of terrified West-siders & Midwest transplants who can't accept the fact that their fashionable SilverLake duplex is in reality on a block that some homeboy lives on who just did a drive-by on 18th Street & now they want a piece of him. Do your homework before you move into a strange new city. Here's a hint: if you have a bunch of loud Nissans & Civics on the street & you're not in a Chinese neighborhood, lock your doors at night. If you see any shiny Imapalas, buy a gun. Oh yeah, & when people spraypaint their gangs name over another gangs name, it doesn't mean they're challenging them to a spelling-bee. If you look closely you can see where the grafitti has been painted over by the city or the neighbors...did you want the local gang to bring a fruit basket to your house when you moved in? I read one hilarious entry on there; this guy was complaining that there had been a shooting near his house: "I heard gunshots, & when I shot a glance out the window to see where the gunshots had been shot from & who shot the gunshots & where the gunshots were coming from & who was shooting a gun, I saw a gunman running down the hill, holding a gun, & after the gunman & his gun who had shot the gunshots got in his car, he gunned the engine & shot away." Ok I'm paraphrasing but that's what we call poetic license here at the OK Corall.
I'm not going to even dignify the countless blogs about people's day-to-day humdrum existences. The whole slice-of-life thing works great for Harvey Pekar, but there's one Harvey Pekar & ten million people whos slices of life could stand to be a la mode, or maybe even have some American cheese melted on top. And of course, these are the people who feel compelled to blog their hearts out. Why do they bother? Have they not seen the glorificent (glorious/magnificent) modern-day sermon on the mount that you, yes you, have the pleasure to be reading this very second? To quote Mike Tyson, "How dare they challenge me with their primitive skills."
Yes I'm aware of the irony of me writing this in my blog.
My friend at work sent me a link to some dude who thought it would be cute if he kept a blog & acted like he was Darth Vader (yes, back to Star Wars, just for a minute), so the posts were like an inside look at his mind. And you thought Star Wars fan fiction was bad! Darth Vader's diary. Even if the concept wasn't a terribly misconceived abomination, he routinely strayed from the story & took cute little "liberties" in order to make the dreary reading a bit less painful to it's readers. So he couldn't even do that right.
Then my girlfriend shows me some site, "Blogging LA" or something, which is basically a journal of terrified West-siders & Midwest transplants who can't accept the fact that their fashionable SilverLake duplex is in reality on a block that some homeboy lives on who just did a drive-by on 18th Street & now they want a piece of him. Do your homework before you move into a strange new city. Here's a hint: if you have a bunch of loud Nissans & Civics on the street & you're not in a Chinese neighborhood, lock your doors at night. If you see any shiny Imapalas, buy a gun. Oh yeah, & when people spraypaint their gangs name over another gangs name, it doesn't mean they're challenging them to a spelling-bee. If you look closely you can see where the grafitti has been painted over by the city or the neighbors...did you want the local gang to bring a fruit basket to your house when you moved in? I read one hilarious entry on there; this guy was complaining that there had been a shooting near his house: "I heard gunshots, & when I shot a glance out the window to see where the gunshots had been shot from & who shot the gunshots & where the gunshots were coming from & who was shooting a gun, I saw a gunman running down the hill, holding a gun, & after the gunman & his gun who had shot the gunshots got in his car, he gunned the engine & shot away." Ok I'm paraphrasing but that's what we call poetic license here at the OK Corall.
I'm not going to even dignify the countless blogs about people's day-to-day humdrum existences. The whole slice-of-life thing works great for Harvey Pekar, but there's one Harvey Pekar & ten million people whos slices of life could stand to be a la mode, or maybe even have some American cheese melted on top. And of course, these are the people who feel compelled to blog their hearts out. Why do they bother? Have they not seen the glorificent (glorious/magnificent) modern-day sermon on the mount that you, yes you, have the pleasure to be reading this very second? To quote Mike Tyson, "How dare they challenge me with their primitive skills."
Yes I'm aware of the irony of me writing this in my blog.
posted by I. P. Frehley at 7:32 PM
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