Have you heard about blogging (definition:
“To blog”), or bloggers (definition: “One who blogs”)? This is
the hottest thing in what we euphemistically call interpersonal
communication these days. It is short for “weblog” and you’ll
notice how they took the portion of the word that would most
appropriately convey the vague notio
n of regurgitating something, a sound reminiscent of the
consequences of chugging a fresh brewski a little too fast.
Have you heard about blogging (definition: “To blog”), or bloggers (definition: “One who blogs”)? This is the hottest thing in what we euphemistically call interpersonal communication these days. It is short for “weblog” and you’ll notice how they took the portion of the word that would most appropriately convey the vague notion of regurgitating something, a sound reminiscent of the consequences of chugging a fresh brewski a little too fast. Myself, I would have preferred “webl”, pronounced “weeble”, because it has the requisite geekiness without the connotation of reverse peristalsis, but then again I’m not the linguistic trendsetter I once was.
In any event, just about everyone with a keyboard seems to have a blog, which as I understand it is a free-form personal journal/diary/catharsis/autobiography/stream-of-consciousness sort of a thingy. It allows one to be introverted and extroverted simultaneously; you can hang it all out there on the Internet for the world to hear you say “look at me!” knowing that no one actually knows the “me” they’re looking at, kind of like the Wizard of Oz hiding behind his curtain.
A fine example of how this can work has just come to light, in which a blog maintained by a young lady named “Layne” for the past three years has been captivating throngs of blogees with her compelling life story and her fascinating daily journey of self-discovery. Since blogs are interactive, loads of folks have engaged the blogette in text conversation, and claim to have been inspired and enlightened by her honesty and keen perception. It has now been revealed that “Layne” is actually a 35-year old guy with a flair for writing whose life so far as can be determined is absolutely nothing like that of his alter-blogger. Some rapt followers of his/her electronic soap opera say they feel a little foolish for buying into it.
An understandable reaction, but unnecessary. The wonders of the Internet are to say the least a mixed blessing, providing a tremendous source of information and entertainment, but also providing the means by which reality can be molded like Play-Doh without us poor saps having a clue. For example, some other items that have recently been disclosed include:
Not only are there no weapons of mass destruction, there is no such place as “Iraq.” The entire country turns out to be the creation of three teenage hackers with a tweaked-out Mac who invaded the Internet with descriptions of a mythical Middle-Eastern country patterned after a really bad neighborhood in Bayonne, N.J. Planting the data in certain highly-classified strategic locations which only teenagers with no after-school activities could find, the confabulation has taken on a life of its own with enormous consequences. Even the name is a veiled clue to the prank; it is the lads‚ acronym for “It’s Real As Quidditch.”
Although the new Gilroy Police station will cost more than $28 million, city taxpayers won’t be dinged a penny. A clever nerd on the city manager’s staff has managed to hack into San Jose’s computer system and slip the entire cost into the budget of that city’s palatial new $350 million city hall where no one will notice such a paltry sum; it is now securely hidden under the line item “Doughnuts for the repairmen who will be spending a lot of time fixing all the high-tech toys and gadgets in the mayor’s office.”
The lesson, gentle readers, is, Access the Net with caution; you never know who isn’t out there.
Robert Mitchell is an attorney in Morgan Hill and longtime columnist for The Times.
