Monday, November 16, 2009

Just a bit shy of sideways

I don't know why I go through these cranky phases in my posts where I rant out an open window like Peter Finch in the 1976 movie, Network, screaming "I am as mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore."

I don't suppose that reference means much to anyone under 50.

The problem with taking an extreme stand about anything is that people just punch in the mental mute button and shut you out. No one (including me) wants to listen or read ranting tirades. But I have to admit they are a bit therapeutic even if they are self-indulgent.

Ironic thing is that it doesn't really matter who is right or who is wrong about many things. Having "I told you I was right" engraved on my gravestone wouldn't make me feel any better. So I wish I could just let things go.

Believe it or not, I am better than I used to be at biting my tongue (or using the delete button in the case of electronic communications). My mouth has gotten me in more trouble than I care to elaborate on in the past. Aging has helped. You tend to want to conserve energy as you get older and not get sucked into meaningless debates. Learning to accept the inevitable has been a survival tactic in the workplace. I've learned to shortcircuit heated e-mail exchanges simply by not responding.

But I have to say, in my own blog, I shouldn't really have to care about offending people or engaging in debates. This isn't an open forum. I believe people have the right to disagree with me, but I don't feel any obligation to provide them with the platform to do so. Thus my moderated comments section.

And thus the lack of comments on my blog. Being a benevolent dictator gets lonely at times.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

A matter of fact

I have come to the conclusion, and this is just my own opinion, that everything is just opinion. My own radical opinion is that there is no such thing as "fact." And all of the crap bouncing about on the Internet is just one big hairball that people keep coughing up on your living room floor.

I'll wait while you savor that visual image.

There used to be a time when I could read a newspaper (when there still were newspapers) or watch television news (when it was actually news) and trust that it was factual or at least factual in nature. But as the former president once said, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and you have fooled me again." He was such an idiot.

Point is, that digital report, social media, blogs, Facebook and Twitter have rendered fact a fossil of the dying world of print journalism. I feel stuck in a bizarro dimension of editorial writers spouting their opinions about everything. And the mindless masses pick up this drivel, place it on a pedestal and begin bowing to it.

I am sick of opinions about the economy. I am sick of the stock market. I am sick of the debate over socialized medicine. And I am sick of the war on terrorism. I am sick of lies in general. I don't want to hear the latest cause for cancer or seven ways I can drop 10-pounds in 10 minutes. I don't care if your mop picks up more dust per minute than the old mop. I don't want a leopard print snuggie or snuggle or whatever you call the moronic blanket with a hood they are hawking on television and at finer stores like WalMart. It looks like a freakin' monks habit.

I don't trust your tips on safeguarding my retirement or looking for mold spores under my refrigerator. I don't want to turn an empty toilet paper tube into a convenient way to store computer cables. I don't want any more of your useless information.

Ironic isn't it?