The only thing more annoying than blogs in the first place is when people who have blogs get all self-referential; the blog is then nothing more than an attention-seeking device available to the entire world, ten times more effective than that middle-school eating disorder. But to assume that a blog is or should be anything more than a declaration of love for the self might be embarrassingly presumptuous. This damn thing hasn't exactly stared a revolution, and only serves as a reminder of all my own short comings as a human being. It used to be cute, but now it's dropped out of high school and got a job at the video store, prompting all the familiar hand-wringing, shouting matches and "where did i go wrong?"s.
The blog itself is still a medium in its infancy; collectively, blogs are culturally significant, but individually they're nothing more than a means for the author to think they're contributing to the world in some constructive way. Anyone who doesn't get sick of the sight of their own type, blogs, and people who have blogs is either delusional or talented.
If the specific cause of my disillusionment with this completely worthless endeavor is of any interest, check out www.datingdylan.blogspot.com and you too will be robbed of the will to live. Read on an empty stomach/ far from sharp objects.
Until I've overcome this crippling fear of self-published work, here is a word from Chuck Klosterman, whose incredibly self-obsessed excuse for "journalism" finds an audience with the similarly afflicted and those with no personality of their own and a subscription to Spin: "I mean, either that guy in the corner in orange safety pants holding a protest sign and wearing a top hat is mentally disabled or he is the coolest fucking guy you will ever know."
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