Thursday, March 15, 2007

The Problem With This, Right Here

You know how when you think you've escaped some stressful stupid crap by moving several states away and engaging in Zen-like behavior and conscientious workmanship? And then, it comes back to bite you through this horrid thing we call the Internet. Maybe blogging is a stupid idea. You want to send something out into the cosmic void so you know your voice is being heard by somebody, but UNFORTUNATELY, there are alot of voices in that void, and they're all screaming, and God forbid one of these Google geniuses could have come up with a filter. Wouldn't it be nice if Gmail just refused to send you angry emails, including your own, the ones you're likely to regret later anyway? Granted that would be censorship and privacy infringement and a whole other mess of bad stuff, but I wouldn't mind. Because people blow. Lots and lots of people. Blow. Including me. And I can't erase history. I can't even erase my friggin' online history. I have to think about my future every time I write down a Goddamn thing. In what light will this post throw me in 2027? Do I really want to meditate upon the worst possible swear word? Do I really want to call (insert name of bad actor here) a douchebag? What if he becomes president someday? Could I be tossed in jail under the Patriot Act?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. People are so nasty to each other. Why can't we all just get along? Huh? Why? Don't roll your eyes when I'm talking to you! Come back here! Come back here! Fine, I didn't want to hear what you had to say anyway. Bitch.

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In summing up, I wish I had some kind of affirmative message to leave you with. I don't. Would you take two negative messages?
-- Woody Allen