Blogs: The Internet's Intellectual Flea Market... OF DOOM

Fine! Internet, you win. I broke down and registered myself as a “blogger”.

SIDERBAR: A couple thoughts on the word “blogger”
1) Blog, blogging, blogger and the less publicized bloggophilia were recently added to THE DICTIONARY as Webster’s way of saying “We’re cool. We’re hip. We’re with it. You can see just how cool we are for only $14.99” These really had no business becoming words and I pugnaciously stand by my contention that in the next edition (their 24,000th at last count), Merriam AND Webster should agree to remove these words. They should also remove “funner”, but I’ll dedicate an entire diatribe to that.
2) I don’t like the phraseology of “Registered Blogger” because that makes me feel as if I was convicted of aforementioned bloggophilia. I’m concerned that neighbors and compatriots will sign petitions and give me dirty looks while saying things like “There goes that Paco guy I saw on the Internet. He makes absurd, unfounded claims about nothing of any relevance under the premise of keeping mainstream media in check… umm, somehow… mostly theoretically” and “I heard he likes little boys” (only one of which is true, mind you).

Moving on. I can’t say that I’m particularly sold on the idea of blogging. I suppose “respectable” bloggers are both growing in popularity and credibility as the pseudo-anonymous whistle-blowers of “real” columnists, journalists and relevant, newsworthy individuals. Others utilize blogging as an online diary, exposing their souls (sort of) to the world (wide web); proving conclusively that teenage girls secretly REALLY want you to read their non-internet diary (check the bureau… left drawer. No, behind that. The key is in the right drawer. Forget it, just rip open the lock. No! I thought I just explained that she only pretends to mind). And, then you have what I’d call SAD SICS’s (Smart Angry Dude Skilled In Computer Stuff), those guys that write lengthy, often vulgar accounts of things they hate. These are amusing in that “hell in a hand basket” kinda way.

Their aim seems to be to demonstrate their individuality, intelligence and wit by being angry and absurd just like the thousands of other SAD SICS. They grow a fan base, consider themselves celebrities and answer hate-mail as part of their sssshhhhtick. God bless ‘em, I say. It’s mindless, crude humor, but it makes me laugh from time to time. I’m (presumably) a far cry from a SAD SIC; I’d call myself more of a PACO (Poorly Attempting Clever Observation… these are the jokes, people. Forget it! If you wanted real funny, you should have gone to Dave Barry or The Onion, judger!).

Musings of the Mediocre is simply an exercise in writing. I scarcely expect my friends to read this (who know I’m not funny), much less a wider audience, so I’m pretty much free not to fit into a specific genre. I’d like to keep a healthy mix between my fiction writing and commentary. I’d especially like to focus my commentary on how dumb Brian Beutler and his seemingly genuine attempt at “real” bloggophilia are. You’re dumb Brian, and I’m on a one man life’s mission to drag your name shamelessly through the mud. Find Brian and give him a piece of your mind. "Oooohh, my name is Brian Beutler and I'm a real writer... I write real things and use proper spelling and abide by every rule of grammar ever. I'm smarter than you because I use words such as 'ostensibly' rather than 'like' because I'm...ummm... smarter."

We at Musings of the Mediocre have but three words for you, Mr. Beutler: I hate you.

That's all.