Yes, the best part of writing some bullshit random-strike blog is it frees the putative “writer” from the shackles of his own self-importance.
No time fretting and brainstorming and procrastinating in the desperate hope that your inner Gay Talese will emancipate itself from your outer Dave Barry, who of course owns a controlling interest in your soul. No time for that. And you know what, no matter what ill-considered concoction of brain-dead babble you send into the great vacuum, it will cause you no greater embarrassment than all those posts you labored over so assiduously.
And you can write virtually anything, and your utter invisibility will shield you from any sort of soul-damaging criticism.
You can toss out some innocuous rot like … the Unsportsmanlike Comment Sunday Night Award for sublime statement of the obvious goes to new Philadephia Phillies relief pitcher Brad Lidge. When asked how long it will take to recover from his recently suffered knee injury, Mr. Lidge said, ” … that will be based on how it feels.”
See. It’s stupid, it’s shallow, and nobody cares.
Which seems at this point to be the prevailing ethos of the blogosphere.