Still feelin' The Hate

Someone asked me why I hated blogs. It was the one comment to my first post that wasn't some kind of spam. Almost six months has passed since I posted that, and I'm still not to keen on blogs. I think my hatred is just a projection of my own self-image. I hate myself, see, and therefore, anything I would "blog" must also be hated, dispised, or at least mildly disliked.

The other thing about blogs is the name. I can't but help to think of some fecal meaning for the word blog, but maybe that's due to my own deeply carved character flaws.

Oh...and then there's "blog-ness" or that sense that what people write in blogs isn't really "true" in the sense that it's an accurate reflection of their inner beings. Blogs create their own level of reality, that for all we know is as fake as James Frey's memoirs, or Demi Moore's thingies, or Paris Hilton's nose...yikes it's fun to talk about fake things. JT Leroy, fake, Howard Hughes biography, fake, Hilter's diary, fake, the fat in Olestra chips, fake, your outrage that I'm using commas where semi-colons or colons should be used, also quite fake.

So my hatred for blogs isn't at all knee-jerk, it's actually something I agonized over a period of several heart-wrenching and brain-wringing minutes of my unworthy existance. And by unworthy, I mean, still more worthy than yours.

Contradiction, is like contraception, only with diction instead of ception.

FIN