In my years since overcoming my elderly stubborness and embracing this new-fangled gadget called the Internet, I've been to a lot of different places and seen a lot of different stuff. In the few such forays that were not pornographic in nature, I've seen a lot of people writing online journals. I must admit, such things were my initial inspiration for this very section you are reading now. If you've ever seen any of these other journals, though, you'll realize that inspiration is as far as the similarity goes.
If you've read these competing journals, you'll know what I'm talking about. If not, I'll spend a moment of my precious life to educate you. Generally, these things are blow-by-blows of a person's life, similar to a diary but without the blessed secretiveness. I don't know what people think they have to gain by recounting their ironing experience or how they're enriching the world by listing their grievances in biblical manner.
I just rediscovered the webpage of one of my former college acquaintances (see Redcoat's Page on my Links page). At one point, for whatever reason, he allowed his former boyfriend to write something about their breakup and it went on for a m--th--hun--ten pages or something. It was nothing but a poorly written litany of bitching and whining that made me just want to hang myself. Instead, I quit reading. I don't have anything in my apartment to attach a noose to, anyway. Maybe if I was some sicko voyeur or somebody being written about I'd have waded through it.
I've got nothing against people telling the story of their lives, but for crying out loud, HAVE A POINT. Take my Internet 'Ho. She often tells me the stories of her many sexual conquests in detail that reads like the specifications for a nuclear power plant, but at least it's USUALLY entertaining with a plot, a climax, and a denouement.
For my own part, I rarely retell specific episodes of my life here, except IMPORTANT stuff like new arachnid acquisitions. Some recent difficulties at work went unmentioned, my car problems found no place here, and the fact that some weirdo chick at work who goes to church and gets "drunk on the spirit" likes me doesn't even get a footnote! Why? Because it doesn't matter! Everybody has those problems! NOT everybody, however, has a colony of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches! I also don't want certain people to know things about other people and vice versa, so I have to be careful what I write. I don't know why I bother, though. My friggin' mom is probably the only person who reads this semi-regularly. I don't mind pissing her off because she's genetically forced to love me.
The point comes back to my recurring theme that people are stupid and wouldn't know good taste if it came up behind them and anally raped them.
Some of you probably don't see how the Tragedy of Jasonnicus or my essays about the joys of arachnophilia enrich the world. To that I reply that you obviously don't get it, dumbass. Go back to sleep or to your porn or your AOHELL or whatever you do.
