So, you're aware that there's several other sources for blogging, right? Why, I my ownself have tried on two seperate occasions to maintain something on LiveJournal, and if you have some space on those twin foci of retardation (MySpace and Friendster), you get bloggin' rights. But we're not here to talk about those.
Nope. We're here to talk about Blogsource, which seems to be the alternate universe/Spock With A Beard version of This Thing Here. I wonder if they'll even let me write about it...Yes, though. Yes they will, as I am preparing to make fun of it.
It seems to be the outlet for those with no outside reader interest whatsoever, and have decided to do the worst job of marketing themselves ever. Am I being unfair? Let's look.
Ronnie Reyes is the king of them all. He is a motivational speaker of some sort, or was, until he became addicted to gambling, divorced and a sort of Beyond The Valley of the Sad Clowns inspirational lesson in how Not To Be. Better still, he has some sort of link to an even less joyous thing where you can hear Ronnie (and other losers!) whining about their loveless, joyless lives with full audio! God, it's wonderful-in that most horrible of ways.
Best of all, his tagline up top is "Your Insight To What's Right", which begs several questions:
You mean gambling addictions and crippling depression is the right choice for Me, The Consumer?
At what point in all of your mewling about your ex-wife and son not wanting to speak to you ever again is there any sort of Life Guidance being provided here? I feel like I'm listening to a Thought Provoking Quote of the Day (tm) answering machine message from 1987 that's still functioning, in a world that's pretty much gone to voice mail.
(and even more so)
If you're going to spend all your time describing exactly how batshit crazy you are, why is there still a "Invite Ronnie To Speak!" link in your sidebar? Tony Robbins is depressing, to be sure, but at least he's a showman. Ronnie would show up and start making off-color jokes about what bitches women are, observing how he really needs to change, oh everything about his life and when forced to do so, come up with weird little slogans that only seem to Forestall Suicide, not cause Ronnie To Thrive (tm)!
Yeah, it's hard. This self-described "Philosopher. Entrepreneur. Entertainer. Neurotic. Psychotic. Friend." is still trying his damnedest to relay to you all that he learned at similar seminars he paid good money for, back in the Eighties. I am darkly reminded of a sister of an ex of mine who, though deeply addicted to crack cocaine, oftentide sprinkled her incoherent emails with real estate tips, as she had been in that world before becoming a crack whore.
And what am I supposed to do with the disarming honesty of the above description? Philosopher who creates bumper stickers (or bum-mer stickers! Hel-lo!) on his best days? Entrepreneur who admits that he's broke and jobless? Entertainer with no audience? Neurotic-okay: I'll give you that one. Psychotic? Nope: too verbal. Friend? To who or what? He routinely complains about having No Friends.
I mean, "Something good is coming. I know it. It has to, because life just can be this miserable for this long, right? Hope is inevitable." is not an inspirational phrase. It's also poorly written, but that's because he can barely see the screen, for all the tears.
Happy Hour ("or something else") is the thoughts of a guy who seems to speak/write English in a strange manner. Almost all of his posts involve his trips to the dentist (or "the dental trip"), and his girlfriend (?) Chaire, who may very well actually be a chair that speaks to him, and provides witty quotes.
His prose style is Joycean, in that you can't easily tell the quotes from the rest of the text. He is clearly British (references to 'radio 4', calling a baby carriage a 'pram'), and sort of has that self-deprecatory thing going on that they sometimes do. I'm not sure I like it, in that none of the stories are very interesting, nor do they make much sense.
But-to read the guy, it leaves one noting the two things about blogdom that always must be noted. To wit:
It's great that people have a creative outlet for the narrative of their lives, however...
Have you noticed how boring most people's lives are?
He does make reference to the Black Shuck, who The Darkness make reference to in one of their songs ("That dog don't give a fuuu-ck!"). It would seem that there really is this big, black dog that haunts the north of England, ala our Bigfoot, here, or the Ringtailed Cat of the Northeast.
What else? Well, there's this French party chick who has a blog called "White Style", or something. It's in French, and as far as I can tell it's just this blog like any party chick's blog, and has nothing to do with the white supremacy movement in Frawnce. I'd try to apply translation to it, but that would just make this into another one of my many posts about the limitations of translation software.
Haszak, who is this very strange dude who says things like, " I guess I don't get depressed because I understand. We're all made of fire.", and "I was never born. Thomas Hardy is my favorite comedian."
He too is lonely, and like everyone else on this site, seems to never, ever have anyone comment on anything he says. But at least he's not like the woman who writes "Diarrhea of a Madwoman", who somehow manages to be boring, with a name like that.
Except that she's moving to England to live with someone named 'Paul', which is also the name of the "Happy Hour" guy. Who can say? People meet people through this silly medium.
Or, as White Glove (the author of 'Haszak') would have it: " A man's worth is his entertainment value to others."
As I've said, I've never been able to maintain more than one blog at a time, as that might seem just a bit more awful and pathetic than I'm willing to countenance. And as I examine this website that seems entirely populated by sad, lonely people, I'm reminded that I do have a life. Maybe that's why my stories are more interesting than theirs, too.
But Great Pain Makes Great Art, right? Well, sort of, but unintentionally, it would seem. I mean, Ronnie Reyes would be a pain in the ass in person, I think I can say, but plumbing the depths of what happens to assholes when the fragile constructs of their lives collapse are indeed the makings of Great Art. And it might just be more interesting than reading about the lives of people who have lives they are living.
Folks love a train wreck.
Labels: bloggin' about bloggin'