October 30th, 2005

Bloggier Than Thou

I know I'm bound to piss off a number of people I really like with what I'm about to say. But I'm going to say it anyway. It bothers me when people distinguish between Live Journal and other weblog services on the basis of content. The most common argument is that LJs are more confessional and less crafted than the blogs people maintain on Blogger or Type Pad. A corollary to that argument, which bothers me a lot more, is that people who have chosen to use LJ are more immature than those who go elsewhere. Frankly, I just don't see it. There are plenty of abysmal blogs all over the internet, including Live Journal. But many of my favorite blogs on Live Journal are equal to the best anywhere. Of course, I prefer heterodox blogs that mix the personal, professional, and political, so that no doubt slants my opinion a bit. Nevertheless, I'm ranting. And you know what bothers me even more? People who stop maintaining their LJs because they feel they've graduated to a "real" blog. Really. If you wanted your blog to be better, you could have just done your LJ "friends" who put up with your not-ready-for-the-big-time musings a favor and improved the one you already had. Unless, of course, the only reason for starting a new blog somewhere else was to leave those LJ "friends" behind as a way of shoring up the fragments of your hipness, the way you did when you conveniently forgot to return the calls of that well-meaning nerd you sat with in the high-school cafeteria but who sadly failed to match the career path that had you taking LSD and listening to avant-garde noise music and getting screwed by a hippie dominatrix named Ashley all within the first month of college. And if that's the case, then I'm going to be so hot and bothered that my breath will come through your computer screen in a bilious green cloud. Don't pull any of your bloggier than thou shit in my space, mother-trucker. Save it for MySpace where the content really is as lame as everyone says it is. Oh, and could you return those torn briefs I left on your couch? I'm running low on unholiness.