I'll be perfectly blunt with you. I have no idea why I am here.
That wasn't some deep, philosophical statement by the way. More like someone trying to rationalize why they have decided to start a blog.
To me, blogging is akin to you opening up a door and having 300,000 odd people suddenly shout "LOOK AT ME!!" in your face with all the restraint of a dog on a bowling green. But yet I have had a little look around at other peoples blogs and some of them are quite decent little reads. Some cover aspects of their own lives, others comment on social and political events happening in the world right now, and some are completely mental and just babble on about how tiny pixies live behind their eyes, and by the year 2023 we will all be enslaved by giant mutant barn owls.
My two main pleasures in life are writing and ranting, which to be honest seems to form the perfect platform to start my own blog. But now comes the hard part: the angle.
I am certainly not vain enough to publish online a detailed diary of my life, mainly because it would probably be as interesting as smearing anusol cream on some geriatric hemorrhoids, and probably far more unpleasant.
I have no political leanings as such, other than the firmly held belief that all politicians are in fact the very spawn of Satan himself, and will lead us into the fiery bowls of hell like the pack of ravenous evil conniving shits that they are. But as I say, I have no real political agenda.
I wouldn't expect anything profound from myself either. I once tried being profound for a period in 2007. It mainly consisted of me nodding sagely every time anyone said anything, and then steepling my fingers under my chin and dispensing wisdom like some broken fortune cookie machine. "The answer that you are looking for can not be found by looking, it must be found by feeling.........." There would normally be an awkward silence following such pearls of wisdom, and the person I would be talking to would suddenly find somebody else much less scary to converse with.
I ceased doing this once people stopped inviting me to things.
I do enjoy popular culture. Well, enjoy might be too loose a description. More like shout obscenities at what ever TV show/magazine or newspaper article I happen to have laid my eyes upon at the time.
You see life does make me angry. But nothing makes me more angry than popular culture. Mainly because it has been filled with what we deem as the most important thing in society so far. The rise of the celebrity.
There once was a time when the term celebrity was attached to somebody who has a small degree of talent, be it acting, singing, painting, dancing, and so forth. Now? Well now it seems to have been attached to whoever gets the best sex tape on the net, who fucks the most famous person they can and sells it to the press, who has the most famous family, who generally is the most despicable, talentless, wretched fuck up imaginable, and who can generate the most news headlines.
And its all our fault. We buy the magazines, we vote for them in the jungle/on the ice/out the house/off the dance floor, we elevate them to a level that 20 years ago would have taken a normal, hard working person with talent years and years to muster, and we do it with a press of the red buttons on our remotes. All of us are to blame. We have all created a monster.......so surely it is up to us to destroy the monster?
Now, I am not advocating gathering up a group of villagers and heading off to the offices of Heat magazine with pitchforks and burning torches (fun though that would be) I am not much a revolutionist truth be told. It does seem like a lot of hard work. All that planning and hiding out in forests would play havoc with my hay fever. But what we, or in my case, I, can do, is sit and pass judgement safely from the confines of our keyboards, shrouded in anonymity, fit to sneer and laugh at how ridiculous things have become.
So perhaps that is to be my angle? A few snarling commentaries on whats happening in the media world, interlaced with musings from my own, quite frankly, odd mind from time to time? To be honest, even reading through what I have just written doesn't make much sense. It just sounds like an angry man banging two bin lids together, shouting "LA! LA! LA! LA! LA!" But its OK. I'm new to this. The more I do it, the easier (and coherent) it should become.
Feel free to comment, pass judgement, offer guiding hands, if you so wish. Come one, come all.
Peas my friendlies.