Oh, the internet. It's truly an amazing thing. Anything I want to know about is a few clicks away. Far too many things that I would rather not know existed also wait for the consumption of the masses. And sometimes, somewhere in between all of this stuff, floating about in it's outer-spacey nebula, I come across something that I disagree with so strongly that I feel compelled to make that welling, churning rage known. I've actually only brought myself to do this once- after which I realized that there is no way to post a stern and disagreeable comment without looking totally insane.Along with online customer reviews, comments from readers online inevitable fall into their polar ends of the spectrum. Really happy, satisfied people (also, sycophants), and really angry, spiteful people (also, ideologues, bigots, and hate-mongerers). I have accepted this reality and know it to be true. Now I won't say that it's impossible to avoid placing yourself in either of these categories, but let's agree that it's few and far between. And to be honest, taking the time to accomplish that end tends to evidence not one's dissatisfaction or appreciation, but how badly that person wanted to look really smart, funny, or well-mannered amidst the emotional/intellectual slobbery of the mob. It's an ego trip trophy race to the most articulate achievement of moderation in tone.
So once, just once, I decided to say screw all that business. I read an awful article in the Times, a publication I read daily and often enjoy and learn from. I was going to let these people know that they can't get away with writing crap and calling it news, even if it's rare. The thing about the Times, and any website run by someone with a brain (yes, I will read all comments I get on this blog before they are posted), is that you have to qualify to get your voice heard. They censor you, many times with good reason. And as it turns out, my comment was never posted, but gosh darn-it did it make me writhe with fury even more. It was all I could think about, all I could talk about for at least, well... an hour or so at work. My co-workers started giving me that look of confused annoyance. The indignity of it all! And then I thought, what the hell happened to me? In my brief, delusional deluge of moral superiority, I failed to realized that voicing my dissatisfaction in a woefully perturbed comment about standards and ethics did nothing but make me look and feel entirely unhinged. And in the end, I'm just glad the Times never posted it so I didn't have to face the shame of it all. Until now, that is.
So I guess everyone's proverbial mom is still right. If I have nothing good to say, I really shouldn't say anything at all... particularly while commenting on sites. But oh that wily friend of ours, the internet, makes so many problems into fairy tales with happy endings (all kinds). Now with this blog, I can bypass that whole messy issue. It's commentary without the pain of commenting. And although I am aware that I may well appear to be insane to the outside observer, at least now it's on my own terms. Oh internet, I love you.
