To What End…

Blogs, they’re everywhere and everyone believes their words are worth reading, and they are; but within the confines of today’s society very few people actually care enough to read anything longer than a bumper sticker. Why is that? The most prominent reason might be that after it is all said and done, “Your words don’t make no sense.” Another reason might be that you do make sense but your topic is trivial. Or maybe you’re just a lousy narrator—bad plot, bad grammar, and an inability to bring your idea to an acceptable conclusion. Possible answers all, but I think these reasons do not actually explain the substantial lack of interest.

Ever wonder where the word “blog” came from? The origin of the word actually explains why so many lack any level of interest in reading them. With the onset of online oratory came new words to explain the phenomenon. “Weblog” was one of those new words; like Captain’s Log or a personal journal. But apparently people lacked an ability, or were too busy, to say the whole word so “weblog” was shortened to “blog” thereby saving the time it takes to say “we.” One could write a number of paragraphs on the removal of “we” but we’ll save that for later. Everyone demands to be heard, but nobody cares to listen. Intelligence is a good thing, but without wisdom intelligence is not only worthless, it’s an obstacle. The application of both intellect and wisdom requires an ability, and a desire, to listen to all sides and formulate your own opinion; to be able to admit you might be wrong. You must be able to apply historical fact to your thought process, but we are re-writing and erasing history thinking it will go away… I may be getting off topic here. Let’s get back on the main road.  

“So, what are you doing today?” asked with a snarky attitude. “Well, I’m blogging.” “I’m a blogger.” “I blog in the morning, I blog in the evening, and I blog at supper time.” But to what end?

Face it, you get an idea, your write about it, you read it, edit, re-read it, edit again, and only stop re-reading and editing when another idea pops into your head and you know you must push on. You post your thoughts on personal site and compete with the thousands of other short articles posted within the last 3 minutes on tens of thousands of other personal sites. From time to time you check back to see who has read and commented on your previous blogs.

Based on reports from my weblog I have a very small following; around 50 people claim to follow my every word. OK, I’m being a bit sarcastic as I know nobody follows my every word and even fewer follow only some of my words. I have discovered the people who comment are usually the same few people. So, I ask again, to what end?

I live under no illusion that my words carry any philosophical treasures or answer any of life’s most elusive questions. It costs money to blog. Perhaps not much when compared to a college education but I’ve seen blogs from supposedly college educated writers and I have to wonder which college had the audacity to give that person a degree—in anything. My grammar is better than some and worse than some and, thanks to spellcheck, my spelling is exceptional. Not bad for a guy went through most of life with nothing more than a GED. I did spend some time at a Community College but the intent was to meet girls, not get an education. As it turned out I failed at both.

If you have the courage to write on a polarized subject you will be praised by some and called “too stupid for words” by others. Truth is, regardless of the subject or your abilities to articulate a thought, you are not worthy of praise nor should you ever be considered too stupid. The difference between the two ends of the spectrum is, those who “praise” you will never degrade you regardless of what you write, and those who call you too stupid for words will never offer a kind word even if you saved a puppy from a cobra. So take that into consideration when you adding worth to written critiques of your narrations.

Let’s bring this to a close. I’m not a philosopher, not overly educated, I have no hidden super ability to answer life’s most prominent questions, nor do I really care to be a philosopher, overly educated, nor do I have a desire to possess super powers. I write because I want to; it is my right to write; fight for the right to write… Someday—maybe—surely long after I am buried and forgotten, someone somewhere may see an old picture, or maybe see an old article I have written, or see my tomb stone in a rundown old cemetery and wonder, “Who was Steve Briscoe?” Reading these snippets will tell them who I was and maybe then my words will be worthwhile. Probably not, but maybe.

Of course, considering the speed at which indoctrination is growing, I suspect any media that proclaims the positive attribute of individual thought will be censored, erased, and deemed illegal by the ruling class. Rulers can’t rule if people think for themselves. Individual thought is the new bigotry.

I feel a need to make a confession here, “I think it would be kinda cool to have a super power; using them for the good of mankind of course.” I know what my super power would be, but I’ll keep that to myself.

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