There Are No Blogs in Heaven
By Ben Giles | July 22, 2008
For my introductory blog post, I thought it would be wise to
get out into the open my feelings about blogs. And no one has ever summarized
those feelings better than Washington Post sports columnist Norman Chad.
I know most of my colleagues here at AIM don’t feel so
strongly about the Post, and prefer the towns other major daily, the Washington
Times, but I’ve read the Post daily since middle school and will probably be
sharing articles from their website often.
Without any further comment, Norman Chad:
With each passing day, I am aware
that I am 24 hours closer to death and 24 hours closer to blogging.
(I believe it was Benjamin Franklin
who once wrote, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except
death and taxes and blogs.")
I recently was asked to start a
sports blog -- I'll get back to that a bit later. Right now, I just want to
calm the masses. My older friends are railing against blogs and my younger
friends are running to them. I'd like to remind fans of all ages of a couple of
thoughts:
· Blogs are not the end of
the world as we know it; rather, they are an extension of a world we've always
known.
· If you're thinking of
starting a blog, don't; the world needs more blogs like Madonna needs
more leather.
I avoided blogs as long as I could.
Some of them make me smile -- http://thebiglead.com is my favorite -- but many
send me seeking cover in the corner of the shed, particularly the commenter
sections.
Blogging comes in the form of the
written word, but blogging is writing about as much as working the pole is
dancing. Blogging is more of a one-way conversation than anything else, a
neighbor who bangs on your door in the morning to complain about the fella down
the street who won't cut his front lawn.
Blogging, essentially, is talk radio
on steroids.
(During my somewhat checkered and
sordid career, I have turned down offers to do sports talk radio several times,
primarily for three reasons: I would get tired of the sound of my own voice
within a month, I cannot fathom having that many opinions every single day and
I like to sleep in.)
At least the talk-radio host, after
three or four hours of public proclamations, shuts down. But blogs are like 7-Eleven:
They have a bunch of stuff you usually don't need and they never close.
The blogger can -- and often does -- operate at any time of day or night.
Flip Saunders can't coach? Let me
tell everyone how I feel!
Another blown save from Francisco
Cordero? Let me tell everyone how I feel!
Just had a rare, late-afternoon bowel movement? Let me tell everyone how I feel!
If a blogger were sitting next to
you in a bar, you'd stop drinking.
Now, all this blogging and
bloviating raises a question: Are we more opinionated than generations past?
To answer that, I'd pose another
question: Are we more violent than our ancestors?
Probably not. But the means of
violence have become more destructive. First there were rocks, then the
bow-and-arrow, then guns, shotguns, semiautomatic rifles, cannons, grenades,
tanks, bombs and, ultimately, nuclear arms.
Similarly, we always were
passionate about our sports teams, but the means in which we can express that
passion has changed.
In the 1930s, you might sit on your
front stoop and argue; in the 1960s, you might write a letter to the editor; in
the 1990s, you might call in to talk radio; nowadays, you go online and vent.
The Internet is the virtual-reality
version of the A-bomb.
Our culture traditionally has spent
too much time and energy on sports; blogging is simply a technological
extension of this tiresome phenomenon.
So, yeah, I recently said no to
starting a sports blog. Who wants more of me, other than couples
counselors? And why would I want to pollute an already polluted blogosphere?
As for those of you who insist on
blogging on, I just ask that you be more kind and gentle, less cutting and
snide.
(Sure, I know, Couch Slouch calling
someone snarky is like Charles Manson calling someone macabre. But we all can
change -- 37 years in the joint might've reformed Mr. Helter Skelter just as 37
years on the sofa have reformed me.)
Besides, I'm figuring there are no
blogs in heaven. Then again, I'm probably looking at purgatory, and http://firejoemorgan.com
might make it a bit less insufferable.
Click here for the whole story.
Ben Giles is an intern at the American Journalism Center, a training program run by Accuracy in Media and Accuracy in Academia.
1 Comment | Post a Comment
July 22 at 8:37 pm | #1 | Link
Not to worry…Heaven will not be crowded. We can blog all we want down below.