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someone pissed in my bowl of cheerios today

Oh shut the fuck up already:

On the other hand, it's getting so easy to update a weblog that some users seem to type in their thoughts willy-nilly, posting unimaginable banalities, like a nation of Alan Partridges trying to fill an internet's worth of dead air: CDs they're listening to, scintillating accounts of their day at work, URLs of sites they feel they should acknowledge, despite having nothing new to say about them. It is like one of those terrible Christmas family newsletters for every single day of the year.

Here's a crazy idea: if you're going to write a weblog, why don't you do what most of this weekend's Bloggie award nominees appear to be doing, and try to expand the field of human knowledge in some particular area? Or maybe make some attempt to indicate what each news story/ opinion piece/ rambling recollection is supposed to be before the reader is halfway through it? Otherwise, you're producing a form of subjective sub-journalism, a stream of non-sequitur musings as disorienting as the BBC's regular Middle East reporter announcing: "Sorry, Huw, no new developments here. But let me tell you about a nightmare date I went on the other week!"

Weblogs weren't intended to change the world or cure cancer or be the New York Times. Great for webloggers who try to do that, but generally that's not the purpose.

As for this line, why don't you do what most of this weekend's Bloggie award nominees appear to be doing, and try to expand the field of human knowledge in some particular area, I am one of those nominees.

Have I tried to expand the field of human knowledge in some particular area? Not unless the details of my kids' school days or my takes on the war expand your knowledge somehow, and I'm sure they don't.

I like fun. I like being silly. I like reading fun and silly things. Maybe I'm just a simpleton at heart, but I write and read about war and politics all day long on the internet, I spend most of my workday looking at files of people who will probably never see the outside of a jailhouse for a long time, my kids drive me crazy, my husband drives me crazier and my checkbook is in ruins, so pardon me if I feel like spending tonight talking about stupid song lyrics or my collection of action figures or giving gratuitous links to blogs that post pictures of rabbit vibrators.

I just can't keep up with all the rights and wrongs of weblogging. Where are the masters of this medium, the people I can call upon to check my every post with them before I hit "publish" so I can make sure I'm doing it all according to code?

a blogger who documents his personal life in enough detail to be remotely interesting is a stalker's dream come true.

Yea? Where are my stalkers, damn it?

Anyhow, I can give you two clues as to why no one should take this article seriously, anyhow. 1) It's in The Guardian, and 2) Never trust anyone who takes part in anything described as irreverant.


Wow. All this time I thought I wrote my rant because I was pissed that Andrew Sullivan was dissing blogs and Rebecca Blood.

Who knew I was "expanding the field of human knowledge in some particular area?"

Of course, this guy obviously knows nothing about how the fix was in on the nominations, either.

Ya think?


Okay, that one was my fault. You specifically warned of "rabbit vibrators" and I didn't listen.

Oh, and I would stalk you but I'm way too far away. And my wife won't let me.

Michele, I was gonna stalk you, I really was. But... there's my wife, and I'm still on probation for that nasty incident involving the dwarf, the goat and the chainsaw. The doctors have allowed me to begin using a fork to eat with again, that's good. Anyway, I really, really do want to see you naked covered in lime jello. Or, was it DAMN THIS MEMORY LOSS! First I lose the entire 1970's except for one very odd memory involving a pizza and Jerry Lewis...

Michele, you simpleton.

Oh ... and I'm looking in your window as you read this. As usual, you look damn good. Move a little to your left.

Bloggers get stalkers?? Cripes, I can't even get hate mail.

Stalk.. stalk..

Well, you are helping to popularize the expression "Jesus fuck". That's sort of expanding the field of knowledge in a very particular area.

well, if a reasonably sane, young female could be a stalker, i would be one...or would want to be one...

hell, i've already been accused of stalking at least one other person, i may as well add you to my list...


oops, did i say that out loud?

I wish he'd pointed out just which of the mis-categorised dozens of nominees he was talking about... I always wondered if I was...

...so anyway, the other day right I had a little stomach trouble, but I kept saying to my cat Fluffy "It'll be okay Fluffy, don't you worry, its probably just a hairball." So I also updated my gallery with new pictures of the carpet, I found some fabulous dust formations and even a flea!