Look At Me! I'm Blogging!
So I shall toss my fedora into the circle.
I am old enough to remember Warhol's famous quip about fame and fifteen minutes. I suppose the seed was planted then. I think the actual harvest came with the introduction of those ubiquitous "Baby On Board" suction cup window warnings that appeared in the early 80s. I almost always drive alone, so the message was clearly aimed at me: I had better be careful, because if I were involved with such a signed car, I might actually be party to something that could hurt a Baby (a clear metaphor for my/our Future). So . . . I'm in a wreck--whether or not it's my fault--and a Baby is inconvenienced; that is tantamount to my own personal safety . . . my life? I could die in an accident, but that would pale in comparison to a Baby being traumatized, hurt, or killed, my concerned parental roadmates would have me believe.
It was then it began to dawn on me: the unprecidented scope of the Selfish Age that was blooming like aggressive cancer around me. It made me sensitive to other things, and it started answering a lot of questions for me. I began to understand why so many children in public places (and their parents) flabbergasted me. When a child, if I were to so much as stare at another human being who was different (congenitally or circumstantially) by society's standards, my punishment was quick and severe ("You don't stare at people, Wayne!"). I knew that to interrupt adults when they were talking would precipitate quick and icey censure ("We are talking. Shouldn't you be outside playing?"). And Daddy always had his dinner plate fixed before the children. It made sense. Hell, he worked all day to pay for it; shouldn't he eat first and have the choice pieces?
And now there's blogging: the perfect way for infantile adults to shove what they think out onto the Net and before the eyes of everyone. They wrote/thought it; it must be good! Like every feral doodle wrought from children's crayons enshrined on kitchen refrigerator Louvres everywhere because they are so "beautiful"/"wonderful"/"creative"/ad nauseum, [public] opinions are no longer like buttholes . . . apparently everyone doesn't have one . . . at least not as far as the constitutionally selfish blogger is concerned).
So I shall toss my fedora into the circle. It may not be daily, but I am going to force the mundane ephemera of my everyday life down the Internet's throat regularly. Be amazed at my boring life. Shield your eyes from my scintillating opinions. Watch me drop the occasional name [and vulgar word or expression] which will bolster my independence/hipness. Smugly edit any misspelled words or other errors endemic to quick work sans an editor, but remember how creative it was when you colored outside of the lines and insisted the grass was blue.
My tongue is firmly in cheek (OMG! He uses cliches [but not accent marks!]! ), so I'm going to have fun with it. You should, too.