Blogging. Blogs. Weblogs. Blahgs. Much of this area on the internet reminds me of the cafeteria in elementary school only it’s worse because judgment as to who can sit where without being called a “stinkin bitch!” or a “filthy loser!” isn’t passed on one’s hot pair of (imitation) Jellies from Hills, it’s not passed on the Star Wars trapper keeper or the number of friendship pins one has on their shoe. Nope. Judgment comes down by way of a few not so honest words, uttered by a couple of BloGods who are temporarily rendered kind and link a few measly mortals who instantly develop God complexes.
And me? I find it wholly entertaining, I do.
Yesterday, between a few bar graphs, pie charts, and data points, I found myself craving distraction. I found myself on a blog housing the most amazing Jerry Springer-like cat fight. And I quite honestly could not take my eyes off it. It all started with one girl accusing another girl of (and I quote) “diluting her online personality.” She said something about being the first girl and that no other girl, or girl2 could exist. Thing is, said online name (or word) being fought over is a word taken from the Webster dictionary. Can one own words? If so, I call the word “moron” and while you’re at it, throw in “YAYA!” as well. These two went back and forth, fighting. Two grown women fighting about losing their online personalities.
Now, that’s what I call high-quality internet.
One ran off to her blog and wrote:
I hate women. Women are stupid and petty and never seem to grow out of junior high gossip mode. No wonder I’m not a lesbian.
(Sugarlips, lesbians have other lesbians to play with, they need not this).
I thought about commenting. I wanted to suggest a mud-wrestling event, fight it out. Someone suggested the two girls fight it out by showing us (the judges) their tits. Someone called them “Idiots” and “children” someone else said something about “getting a life.”
(I’m reading this. I thought to myself. Perhaps I need one as well).
While the internet is strewn with amazing bits of information and packets of knowledge, it is also filled with human excrement, name-calling, unworthy ownerships, and petty fights. People make cheap shots, they hit below the belt, they waste precious time on things so very small in the grand scheme of things. When I asked Toby to (quickly) talk me out of posting something (not so nice) on this person’s website, he told me it’d be pointless. And I knew it’d be dumb and pointless.
So I said nothing. I just could not stop watching. The flow of poorly constructed sentences and catty name-calling (which, by the way, if you’re going to get your bitch on and slap someone, make sure at the very least you spell everything correctly) was ten times better than Style Network’s reruns of Melrose Place.
And, yesterday as I sat there from the quiet table in the corner of the internet cafe watching the popular girls pull hair and slam lesbians, I cued up a soundtrack in my head:
Oooooma gooma! Oooooma goooma! One of us! One of us!