Sunday, July 25, 2004
 
Sincerity is so hard to pull off
Estimated Days Until Blogger Burnout: 14 (recharged after a few days away)

 
I keep having these ideas as to what I want to write about, but other bloggers keep distracting me.  I've honestly started a list of backlog topics for later posts because I keep having to come back here and talk about Other People's Blogs.

I had some fascinating observations to make about the ways people incorrectly use the words "affect" and "effect", but then I stumbled across this.

It was too horrible for words.  My brain temporarily seized as the litany of insults and cutting disparagements stampeded toward the part that sends impulses to the fingertips.  I mean Lord Almighty, is this guy for real?  Do people really do this?

As I sat here staring at my handy little Blogger window, waiting to unleash the Sarcasm Monster I found myself writing this really boring, not at all personally insulting post instead.  The disappointment I feel in myself is crushing, but it can't be helped.

Look, the guy thinks he's an elf.  So what?  There are worse things, right?  He's got the absolute conviction to put something so utterly, astonishingly lame out there.  Meanwhile here's me, writing about Other People's Blogs while carefully hiding behind my cheese-ball alias lest the horde of Internet stalkers come a-camping at my doorstep.

Now granted there are some advantages to being me.  For instance, I have seen a woman naked.  I mean an actual one, not just a picture of one on the Internet.  And not by accident either, on purpose.  What I mean is, she knew I was in the room at the time.  Something tells me that that probably won't happen for ol' Ringhithion for a very, very, very long time.

So boys and girls, who would we rather be?  Seventeen year old elf-boy reveling unabashedly in his passions (dorkfest though they are) or bitter thirty year old Pops, craven, decrepit, lashing out with misdirected resentment in the form of petulance and self-absorption in a blog so detached and impersonal it is doomed never to be read?

Yeah, I pick Me, too.

 
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 7.2

 
Pops


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