Microcosm

“There's a statistical theory that if you gave a million monkeys typewriters and set them to work, they'd eventually come up with the complete works of Shakespeare. Thanks to the Internet, we now know this isn't true.”
- Ian Hart

Oh, yes, much as I enjoy using the www as a platform to vent or chat or . . . whatever, I feel morally obliged to acknowledge that simply because one can write, does not mean that one should. For instance, I have personally been known to natter on ad infinitum, no, ad nauseam rather, on whatever floats into the cavity between my ears. Really, I wouldn't let me near a computer, if I were not me. Naturally, being myself, the argument is somewhat redundant, but you get the idea.

Having succumbed to the pressure of a thousand peers in high school (some years ago) and descended to the ranks of Facebook users, I need to actively weigh the pros and cons each time I steel myself to log in. On the one hand, I can read and respond to emails from friends I have little to no 'real' contact with otherwise. On the other, as soon as I glance at my Wall, I am treated to (I am looking at the damn thing right now) bull about how X 'luvs [Y] soooo much, snugglepoochies!', how M has farted at N's party, to the collective hilarity of all the guests and how G is asking friends to donate pets in the name of science. [All names have been changed to random initials, to prevent both unnecessary gossiping, and to preserve my safety from irate friends who know where I hide my chocolates.]

You see? You see?!

So, after I made a mental note to send an assassin after X, for being too disgustingly nauseating to be permitted to live, and sneak looks at the garlic chicken recipe Q has posted, while snorting at B's cruelly accurate characterizations of people we both know . . . It sucks you in!!!

This is what I mean! Even though 90 per cent of it is godawful shite, it's like a train wreck - no, actually, those are quite boring - it's like watching the autopsy of a particularly gruesome murder victim - horrific, but you can't take your eyes away.

Hmm. Or maybe that's just me.

In any case, there should be some minimum requirement of language, intelligence and interest that each would-be poster should possess, before being allowed to further defile the (highly) questionable integrity of the internet. Yes, I'll get right on that, just as soon as I find a way to make the taps in my apartment run chocolate - preferably milk chocolate fudge.