OOZIES, TWEETS, WAVES & PONCH

Writing blogs. One thing I do (sometimes) that I don't have to do (ever) and that nobody really knows about (or even cares if they do, no offense Mom). Whether I start, stop, slow down or hastily change directions will not change anyone's life. Not drastically anyways. Not subconsciously anyways, and not in any way, anyways. Normal, everyday sifting society, will never be made aware of my pleasantries and semi-serious off the cuff attempts at inherently funny words or needle nardle noo, goon show whathaveyous. Well, at least the Tigers are in first place. Anyways, unless I am a society hating/sex deprived early twenties drop out with a known to only others like me blog, one which, and in intricate detail may I add, outlines my two year maniacal plan to mow down a school because everyone hated me when I went there four years ago. Because, then the feds would be all over my blog. And probably a few copy-cats, weirdos and just plain 'different' people. Who knows, maybe A&E will use the blog as a cutaway on some A to Z Guide to crazy, lonely and misunderstood suicidal gunmen. That's the only way to get national attention with a one of these. And you also may have to dress like a vampire and hate the world. And always talk about guns and bullets and shooting stuff and other whatnot's of pure evil. You might even have a few loaded oozies you bought off of EBay in your basement. So, my point being, since I am not this aforementioned person or anything like that (eg. ranting hate monger with followers of hate and mongering, or outlandish right or left wing big mouth with a serious case of single minded tunnel vision, etc.), nor are the fuzz techs busily deconstructing my thoughts looking for patterns to help understand the downward spiral of a psycho path - Uhh, he's got an arsenal in the basement and enough rounds to take out a few scenes worth of zombies in a zombie movie. The evidence is right there Ponch, it's labelled "Psycho" in the "Duhh?" section in the drawers next to all the warning signs and flashing lights. What I'm really saying is, what other things do we do that we don't really have to do but do anyways even though, really, nobody knows about or cares to no about what we have done, really? Let's see. Blogs. Yes, good one. Uhhh, Tweets. Yes. Those. I have never personally or physically seen what, or been on or administered a tweet, nor have I tweeted on or sat close to a tweeter page. I don't even know what a tweet sounds like. I'd assume something similar to a bird, but I can't be sure. And I have a blog. Unless of course you are a psycho or are planning to be a psycho or are planning on having sex with someone famous and writing daily about it. Or a radically inclined nut ball radio host with an axe to grind with an opposing caucus. Yes, we've gone through this. Myspace, Facebook, blah blah, hoo-ey crap shit doo-ey. What's the new thing gonna be? I know. I see the trends. I can read the waves and valleys. The scribbly lines and hap hazard charts tell me something. Something quick, painless, and very public but also very private - unless you have a lot of friends. An implant or perhaps just some way advanced programming that reads our secrets and transmits them invisibility and with such tremendous speed that the Internet becomes obsolete and frowned upon. I will call this brand new massively invasive and addictive monster - WE. *Not the Nintendo Wi, but We as in there can be no more you and I or me because plurality has replaced our individuality just as public has invaded our privacy and innocence. There probably already is something out there in the net, something amazing and new and different, scooping up subscribers, advertisers, hackers and spamsters galore, and well on its way to being bought up by Google. I'm just an out of touch in more ways than one sometimes bloggstir with no pot (to stir), cable (to access) or a way to move (besides my legs). However, Myspace and Facebook are good avenues for exposure if you 1) trash someone, in the public sphere of real-time personal pages, or 2) are trashed in someones tagged picture, because, we all know that Mom's, employer's and jealous boyfriend's can't resist the trash pics, you know the one where your drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette at the same time - passed out. Or are trash. The dump isn't the only place where trash sells for cash. Think about it.