Sometimes for no good reason except to vent, I find a rant tumbling from the ends of my fingers onto the keyboard. These ravings are often unfiltered, and probably unthought. But, oh! how good it feels to get it out of my system. So far, so good. But then I find myself sometimes without a blog post for the morrow, and I stick one of these rants in the blog. Forgive me, please. This is one of those. You may choose to save your time and move along to the next post in your reader. That’s okay. (Or “okeh,” as a pedant I once knew insisted.)
The day of interactive everything. Except of course for face to face interaction with another human being. Even the comic strips have to be interactive. Read the funny, write a comment. Who cares? The cartoonist came up with something, drew a picture, added some dialog, expressed an opinion or an idea, perhaps. I am intelligent enough to get what he is saying, or not, but I don’t need help in interpretation; and besides if I don’t get it I can ask my wife! Further, while the first commenter may address the cartoonist’s notion, the whole thing quickly degenerates into a garbage-flinging, name-calling slime fest completely unrelated to the original idea. Who needs that?
Interactive television? You must be 1) joking, or 2) totally out of your mind.
What exactly do you suppose I care about Miranda Moron’s opinion. If the opinion of the “audience” determines anything to come, forget it.
How about commenting on the articles on the op-ed pages? Now that is opinion, and your opinion is still your opinion, and though you may be angry with the writer, leave him alone. He’s an idiot, too. If you agree with him, well, you know.
What to do? Ignore the stuff, move along. Nothing to be seen here, or if there is, it isn’t edifying.