What is the whole bloody point anyways?

Have just come over from a visit to Schuey's blog, where one little innocent comment (rather acerbic, yes) has rebounded into serious ego territory. Everybody is so ready to jump on the bandwagon... (I'm commenting more on the comments than on Schuey himself, who I pardon for all his head-bursting blog histrionics)

-yes, protect yourself... it's your blog... do what you want!
-you go guy!

Of course it's his bloody blog... He's still a grown man and I'm no cheerleader.

...which reminded me of the recent publicity manoeuver of a co-blogger, her dumping her Mr. Frenchie over one overheated night of clandestine incandescent sexual pleasure... I think somehow that has managed to manifest itself from "the affair" to "the new life." Quite the fancy footwork, I'll agree. Still, does one really need to hear about that? Mucky middle-aged brits frothing at the mouth like cycloped cheerleaders:

-you go girl!
-yay, pursue your own happiness!

What I find even more hilarious is people, who have never met or seen her, begging for details on the new man. It's like blogger porn.

Yes, this is a criticism... and one I've held back. I don't believe it... I just don't. She'll probably guilt herself into having a long-term relationship with the new guy... I really don't give a fuck... It's just ruining my good read and I'm tired of realizing that half the gagas out there are the same middle-brained conservative boobs I detest... the ones that cheer and talk madly about individualism, choice, and going for your personal happiness.

First of all, everybody I know sports the same mystifying mantra of individualism... it's so generic these days. The only weirdos I know are those who are earnestly searching for absolute normalcy. Secondly, hardly anyone makes choices these days because people don't realize that being an absolute idiot is still a choice, not a default. Thirdly... I have no idea when I ever stopped looking for my personal happiness and when people try to remind me of this, I feel like asking them if they think we're living as undersea dreaming mermen on some plutonian atlantic offshoot world. It's just madness... madnesss.... horror and, encore... madness!

There's nothing more disappointing than hearing mass approval from the handicapped, watching a parapalegic trying to clap.

And no, I won't explain why I write my blog suffice to say that it's out there in the public domain, thus open to criticism... but what the fuck Holy Smokes is really about, well, I'm not sure... and I don't want to be sure.

On another strange note, I had an erotic dream recently involving a blog that I read (not in the blogroll you perverts!) where I somehow ended up in bed with what I imagined this boy to look like (never met him), in his blue tracksuit, thin blond moustache, and a gigantic encyclopedia on lighthouses. The only detail worth quoting is that the unit ended up over-aweing me into submission, despite the fact he looked 14 years old.