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Putting their necks on the line…

Now I know I told you a story about a day of alcoholic excess recently, but at least it took place over a period of several hours and I was decent enough to be ashamed of myself the next day (well, feeling sorry for myself anyway) but some people take things just that little bit too far.

Back when we lived in Sussex, a bloke died after drinking a whole bottle of Jack Daniels at a party, apparently your body just shuts down when that much alcohol is dumped into your bloodstream and you simply stop being alive due to overloaded and anesthetized internal organs.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When I was at school there was a craze for a card game called Top Trumps, in which you had to read out statistics based on the prowess of the sports car/warplane/athlete/racehorse etc in your hand, hoping to outdo your opponent so you could take his card.

There was a craze for those plastic things (what the Hell were they called?) with a spring underneath and a sucker cup which, when pushed down onto the base would, after an unspecified number of agonising seconds, spring up into the air as the suction let go.

There was yet another craze that involved smacking a wildly oscillating, lethally inaccurate tennis ball tethered to a madly swaying pole (which was simultaneously gouging a huge hole in your parent’s lawn) back and forth until the flimsy plastic thing on the top broke and snapped off to show somebody had “won”, or one of the players was given a black eye/bloody nose/concussion by a surprise backhand from one of the unreasonably solid bats.

There were spacehoppers, skateboards, skipping ropes, Cabbage Patch dolls, Rubik’s cubes and Slinkys. All crazes which, at one time or another, were the thing everyone was doing, the thing everyone was talking about.

I’m not expecting this to be news to any of you, but I thought I’d remind you of some of the innocent pleasures we kept ourselves entertained with, back in the days before this huge, life-eating monster called The Internet arrived and swallowed a generation’s youth, only to spit them out, pasty-faced and squinting, into a reality fast becoming an imitation of the games they’ve been living in for years.

Because some crazes that have appeared amongst (and I’m perfectly aware of sounding like my dad here) “the youth of today” are nothing short of jaw-dropping in their crass disregard for basic human decency.

When I first heard about Bumfights, it seemed like we’d reached the very bottom of the barrel in human-on-human exploitation for entertainment.
Then I heard about Happy Slapping and realised that we can always find a way to plumb further depths of despicable behaviour.
That particular craze seems to still be with us, albeit in a new, more hardcore form, The Knockout Game.

All of which are internet “games” based on videos of abuse against innocent victims, generally filmed by the perpetrators or those responsible for inciting violence between others.
But today I have been hearing about a craze that appears to require idiotic amounts of abuse to be inflicted upon the perpetrator instead, and self-inflicted at that.

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NeckNominate is the latest internet fad to hit social networking sites like Facebook, one which has the potential for tragic or even fatal consequences if it continues to spread.
I shan’t promote it any more than I have to, but the point of the exercise seems to be to rapidly consume (or “neck”) any type of alcoholic drink in an outrageous or “amusing” way, the more extreme in volume and mixture the better, then post video of yourself doing so on your chosen social network.
You should then nominate someone else with pronounced antipathy toward healthy liver function to engage in the next in a chain of booze-themed Jackass sketches, thereby perpetuating the whole horrendous process
(I’ve since heard of at least one serious injury, the result of a participant falling backwards down a flight of stairs after “necking” a bottle of spirits)

Yesterday I unwittingly watched a 4 minute video on Facebook that was tagged with a friend’s name, not knowing that this was a NeckNominate challenge.
Expecting any second that there would be a twist or trick at the end of the short clip, what I actually watched was a man in his kitchen, in his underpants, drinking in rapid succession; a pint of lager, a pint of bright red, berry-flavoured cider and a pint of Smirnoff Ice.
And that was it.
Strange. But there’s lots of strange stuff on the internet so I thought no more about it.

Today I got to work to hear a young lad in his early twenties telling anyone who would listen about his hilarious high-jinx the night before.
I paraphrase his description;
You should see the state of my kitchen, we were doing neck nominate last night and my mate was sick. He was drinking a bottle of scotch while I was throwing eggs at him. One of them smacked him right on the side of the head and he puked all over the place.
Then he chucked eggs at me while I drank half a bottle of scotch and half a bottle of wine, it was brilliant.

All this was delivered in the proud tones of one who has done something that should be applauded, so was somewhat crestfallen when he was met with responses that were variations on a theme of “You’re a fucking idiot, you could kill yourself doing that”

He really seemed to be hurt that we didn’t share his pride at his achievement but I’m sure there will be someone out there who will see his video and think; “That looks like fun. Spending a whole night’s money in five minutes, then puking all over yourself and trashing your kitchen. Wicked!”

Really, can we get much lower in our endless hunger for new ways to demean ourselves in the name of entertainment?

And I thought ITV was bad…

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One man’s commenter is another man’s troll…

All it takes is a news report on the death of a statesman, rock legend or movie star to bring the usually silent contributors to internet discussions scuttling out of their holes, pouncing on the slightest opportunity to cast their pearls of vindictive wisdom before the common swine of social media.

Such was the case this week with the deaths of both Hollywood star Paul Walker and elder statesman, Nobel Peace Prize winner and all-round international man of the people, Nelson Mandela.

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From the first post on my Facebook newsfeed the morning of Walker’s tragic accident, messages of sympathy and condolence appeared every few minutes, (at which point I have to admit I Googled his name, not being a fan of the Fast and Furious movie franchise that made him famous) and it soon became obvious that he had been a much loved and respected figure in an industry so often populated by superficial and cynical egomaniacs.

In an age when celebrities tend to see a chance to do good deeds as more of an opportunity to get good publicity, it was good to discover – albeit in tragic circumstances – that here was a man who really did “do a lot of work for charity, but I don’t like to talk about it”, not only setting up a disaster relief charity in the wake of a tornado which hit Alabama, but also personally funding and helping distribute aid in earthquake-ravaged Haiti.
All without the slightest hint of a photo-op or magazine exclusive.

And yet not 24 hours after this online outpouring of seemingly genuine grief and compassion, the mean spirited, troll-like inhabitants of the Weird Wide Web hunched over their permanently sticky keyboards to start producing rants and memes that would render any subsequent display of public emotion trivial and confrontational.

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First we had a wave of rants berating users of social networking sites like Facebook for posting memorials to Walker which failed to also commiserate with the families of Roger Rodas, the driver of the car in which they both died.
As if they themselves had been busy posting tributes to Rodas the whole time, champions of the common man that they are.

But that was nothing to the pseudo-indignation that was unleashed when, a week later, Mandela died and the whole world mourned a man who many considered the father of modern South African society, a man who was the face and voice of oppressed black South Africans even during 27 years of imprisonment.

It was then that the Trolls went into creative mode, knocking together a particularly fine example of their art.
This one featured pictures of both Walker and Mandela, but instead of showing respect to two good men it chose to once again castigate those unfeeling enough to have paid tribute to a mere film actor when there was a real-life, bona-fide saintly hero to be eulogising.
The text went along the lines of;
“If you’ve spent a week grieving over a dumb movie star and don’t know who this man (Mandela) is, then YOU are what is wrong with the world”

Now, this automatically assumes that anyone with the compassion to mourn for a charismatic and generous entertainer is unable to feel similar emotions toward a Nobel winning politician.
But worse than this is the fact that people are then encouraged to engage with these agent provocateurs, giving them the satisfaction of responding with the skewed logic of trolls everywhere.

For despite having started off their diatribe seemingly in support of the ANC leader, when someone in the comments posts an objection that they should be free to show equal respect for both men, they somehow reverse their position and resort to the fatuous “One man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist” argument, belittling Mandela’s contribution and instigating a less than dignified slanging match between other commenters on the thread, before slinking off to their hole unnoticed.

What none of these anonymous cyber-trolls seem to understand (or more likely choose to ignore) is that some young people who grew up with certain celebrities in their lives really do feel a bond with them and are genuinely devastated when they pass away.
It is almost certainly a more profound and sincere loss than that felt by the politicians and pundits who cry crocodile tears for the cameras at the thought of a week of retrospective news specials and biographical documentaries when a head of state dies.
And I’d like to think that they also don’t give enough credit to those same young people, most of whom are perfectly well aware of what a great man Nelson was and what he contributed to the world.

So don’t give them the satisfaction.

Because unless they read every obituary, in every paper in the world, every day of the year and then mourn the loss of every life lost that day, they are just like the rest of us.
Each of us touched by the lives of others in different ways, not always knowing the way in which our lives are affected by those we don’t get a chance to meet but still open to being part of their legacy.

(Much respect and gratitude to Ho for his fabulous “Cyber-troll” cartoon, done at very short notice this afternoon)

 
 

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The anti-social network…

When was the last time you were offended or upset by something that a stranger did in public?

Is there a benchmark for inappropriate public behaviour that most people can agree on?

For instance, if a topless woman got on the bus you were travelling on, would you expect anyone to be offended?

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Ok gentlemen, bad example.

How about breast feeding?
Perfectly natural. Nothing unacceptable about that.
At least you wouldn’t have thought so.

Once you get online however, all the usual rules and logic seem to go out the window.

Hypocrisy appears to be the order of the day when it comes to the policies of Facebook in particular.
Only this week the social networking platform flip-flopped their ruling on gratuitously violent content, when they first defended the already once-reversed decision to allow the posting of an incredibly graphic video featuring the beheading of a woman by a Mexican drug gang, then re-reversed the ruling when there was a public backlash that such extreme violence could be so easily accessible by anyone with a Facebook account.

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Yet posting a photo of a woman breast feeding is expressly (no pun intended) forbidden by their nudity policy. In fact the policy, which specifically bans the depiction of a “fully exposed breast”, was rather confusingly cited as the reason for giving me a 24 hour ban from the site after posting the picture below, under the heading “Does anyone think this is an appropriate pose for a family photo?”

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See any breasts?
No.
Ok, it’s wrong on many levels, but it does not contravene the boob law as I understand it.

Even more bizarrely, I received a stern warning from the Fb taste police after posting a photo of a topless woman which most definitely does not contain breasts.
Posted in relation to a story on breast cancer awareness, the following photo shows the beautifully tattooed chest of a woman who has had a double mastectomy.

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See any breasts?
No.

The rules governing what is and what is not acceptable are so arbitrary they seem to have been pulled out of a hat at random and selectively applied to equally random content, without any rhyme or reason whatsoever.

Despite, or perhaps because of, this peculiar interpretation of their own policies it is still entirely possible to view other, similarly gruesome decapitation videos on Facebook without any special access being required.
Not only that, there are pages dedicated to everything from making tasteless jokes about babies dying of cancer to those that promote dog fighting and graphic cruelty to animals. Blatantly racist and misogynistic content seems to sail invisibly past whatever passes for the Fb decency filters, which only ever seem to be activated by mild sexual titillation and the hopefully obvious category of threatening other users with rape or personal violence.

Other platforms are often guilty of comparable lapses of common sense in applying their own rules,  most recently illustrated by Twitter‘s lamentably slow response to the raft of rape and death threats suffered by women such as the history teacher I would have loved to have had at school, Mary Beard, over something as ridiculous as whether or not we had a man or a woman on a bank note.

Really? Bomb threats over something like that?
You wouldn’t have thought the sort of moron who makes anonymous threats on Twitter would have that passionate an aesthetic appreciation of the engraver’s art would you?

And don’t get me started on the self-harm and bulimia glorification showcase that occupies an alarmingly growing percentage of tumblr content.

It’s true that we should have the freedom to watch, read and listen to whatever we want, without the censors second-guessing our moral standards for us. But the fact remains that anybody, including children and anyone else who can access a computer, laptop or smartphone, can join one or more of these ostensibly inoffensive social networks and within minutes be exposed to the type of graphic images once vilified as Snuff Movies.

I don’t claim to have any answers to the dilemma of how to regulate what makes something too offensive to publish, nor do I expect the situation to get anything but more complex as the sprawling embrace of the World Wide Web encompasses more of our daily lives.

But I do have a tenuous link to finish on, with two excellent videos for your entertainment.

The first is most certainly “all done in the best possible taste” showcasing as it does the comedic talents of one of Britain’s best loved and sadly missed performers, Kenny Everett
(Ron from Vent, this is for you)

… and the second most certainly isn’t, because right here you can watch the full length movie of Peter “Lord of the Rings” Jackson‘s outrageous debut feature length alien/zombie comic horror masterpiece from 1987, Bad Taste.
(Hilarious, but not for those of a delicate disposition or those easily offended, blah, blah, etc, etc..)

Enjoy.
And let’s be careful out there…

 

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Running commentary…

The more time I’ve spent writing Diary of an Internet Nobody, the more I’ve come to appreciate how important the part of comments is in helping to keep the stream of ideas flowing.

Since it appears to be the month for celebrating milestones – 15,000 hits, 200 followers – it’s also worth me taking a minute to congratulate you, my esteemed followership, on the fact that over 1000 comments have now been registered on the blog, (although I should point out, that does include my replies) and I’m grateful for each and every one.
I even had my very own troll for a while, but he seems to have crept back under his bridge of late.

Trolls aside, if it wasn’t for the opinions, advice and thought-provoking discussions that have begun in that little square box at the bottom of each post, many of the actual posts might not have been written in the first place.
Quite apart from the direct contributions so to speak, from old friends Oliver, who gave a personal account of a trip to Reading Festival in this post and Zippy, (Richard Thorns) who has added his own inimitable take on two separate stories which you can find at the top of the homepage, along with links to their sister posts.

[In related news, Zip’s passion for cryptozoology continues unabated and you can watch the video about his latest expedition to locate the fabled Pink Headed Duck right here…]

I have actually been congratulated by a writer I rate very highly (not without some degree of envy, I’m pleased to note) on the quality of the comments on the blog, and on the articulate calibre of my readers, so you should consider yourselves suitably flattered.

Both Bully for me… and Foot in mouth disease… were inspired by conversations I had elsewhere on the hard shoulder of one information superhighway or another.
While the time reading and commenting on other bloggers’ posts is time well spent, not just for the welcome reciprocal traffic this generates, but also for the chance to get involved in exchanges with like-minded people on subjects as diverse as the posts we all read.

The trouble is, if I see a good blog I automatically follow it. Likewise, if someone follows Diary of an Internet Nobody I’ll generally follow back, (although I’m starting to learn my lesson now, after getting spammed by various, deeply spurious, get rich quick schemes) which means I now have so many blogs to read that if I commented on them all, I’d need three of me just to give me time to write.

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And I like to leave a comment with a bit of thought behind it if I can, whether it’s just to join in with Adam, bashing the numpty-du-jour at A World Of Pain, trying my best to interpret the enigmatic art of Windhound over at Dragonshades, enjoying the eclectic mix of photography, video, reviews and comment in Emilie Rosson’s world, having an exchange of cultural views with Ron, flamboyant host of Vent or making terrible puns on Toemail.

But nothing beats the feeling you get when something you wrote generates enough interest or emotion in someone that they take the time to leave a thoughtful, well written comment.
These freely offered contributions act as additional insights into the subject of the original post, providing other readers with another point of view and sometimes even lead to cooperation and collaboration between bloggers.
Just this morning, turning my phone on to finish writing this post, I’ve commented on three blogs one of which, Tim Love’s blog is completely new to me, a recommendation from a fellow blogger.

Another problem I’ve had recently is trying to navigate the desktop site of the mobile-unfriendly but otherwise excellent BlogCatalog.com, so I’m going to find the blogs I follow on there which I can’t get through my WordPress Reader and follow them by email instead. That way I don’t need to spend hours trawling through dozens of microscopic notifications to find links to the latest pearls of wisdom from Rum Punch Drunk, to see the latest artistic offerings from the lovely Carol over at Anfinsen Fine Art or to catch the newest batch of scantily clad female fantasy warriors and/or poodle-haired ’80s rock drongos from the Assorted Thoughts of Big D’s Unsorted Mind.
And while we’re on the subject, Hey BlogCatalog, can we have an Android app please?
Thanks.

So thanks again for your help in making my blog what it is today. Because without all those wonderful interactions with all you other writers, readers and ranters to keep my neurons firing, what would I find to talk about?
And thank you once again to Ho, for his latest bespoke blog-toon.
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Rest assured, this will be the final burst of barely-disguised, self-congratulatory own trumpet blowing (for a while at least) but I am inordinately proud of my foray into the world of blogging and I’m not modest enough to care who knows it.
In fact, not since my days as a teenage theatre nerd have I been able to look at a body of creative work and said to myself “I/we did that from scratch and people like it”

And I like that.

 

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Foot in mouth disease…

Sometimes, even the people who you expect to be offensive, provocative or downright ignorant can pull off breathtaking lapses of decency when you’d almost managed to forget they exist.

Then again, there are some people who are only known to those outside their (gradually widening, embarresedly shuffling) circle of friends because they said something idiotic on the telly or typed without due care and attention deficit on any one of a number of social-minefield networking sites.

And then there are the ones who seem to have made an entire career out of spouting ill-informed bigotry in the name of acting like a “man of the people, salt of the earth” kind of guy.

Which would be fine (well, maybe not fine) if they were doing it in a low-foreheaded, bulging-veined, eye-popping huddle in some smoke filed backstreet drinking club.

But they’re not are they?

Oh no, they’re doing it in public, on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and of course, on TV.

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The only trouble is, I don’t think that they realise it half the time.
Not that they’re doing it, nobody could be as wantonly unpleasant as some of these misanthropic morons can be by mistake, but that other people might be watching.

Take UKIP clown-in-chief Nigel Farage, a man so cringingly, excruciatingly out of touch with reality that on a recent visit to Bulgaria he compared the notorious former communist party headquarters in Sofia to the European Commission offices in Brussels, and also seemed  genuinely astonished that, despite his best efforts to apparently promote the idea, there weren’t hoards of eager economic migrants queueing up at the passport office, desperate to get on with the important business of invading Britain.
Indeed, the Bulgarians he met gave every indication of wanting to stay put, complaining that our weather was crap, and anyway they were rather fond of their homeland thank you very much.

If you can peer through your fingers for long enough you can watch the report on his visit, courtesy of Channel 4 News, in all its toe-curling glory right here.
(Make sure you watch the part with the interview on a Bulgarian chat show)

And then there’s the latest in a long line of UKIP contenders for Adam Pain’s Golden Face Palms, the reprehensible shit-weasel that is Godfrey Bloom, who not content with (or more likely, taking advantage of) the controversy surrounding his reference to all-parts-ethnic as Bongo Bongo land, has now waded into the feminist debating arena, saying that it should be possible for employers to sack women if they become pregnant and claiming that they are more suited to finding mustard in the pantry, and should leave complicated things like driving to men.

And just in case you might be thinking “Steady on, that’s a bit strong, he’s probably just misunderstood”, here’s another C4 News clip, tackling him on his possibly unwise use of ever so slightly racist language.

But it seems that the best and easiest way to get both feet into your mouth is by using micro-blogging, life-commentary-obsessives’ favourite site, Twitter.

Whether it’s high profile, arch political glamour-puss, Sally Bercow making ill-advised (and, oops, libelous) remarks about a certain fat man with glasses (I’m not getting any more specific than that, you can’t be too careful) or a simple case of an ordinary citizen venting their frustration about poor service – a 55 year old typist posted a ranting tweet about a company that was late paying their bill and now faces a £100,000 lawsuit – it’s just too easy to hit that send button before you get a chance to engage your brain.

I’d like to say that I’m all for giving people the benefit of the doubt, but I’ve got to say that, given his record for obnoxious pronouncements, on balance I shan’t be doing so in regard to the delightful Nick Griffin, of right wing troglodytes the BNP, and his latest triumph of Internet diplomacy.

When challenged on Twitter by a gay, Manchester-born Pakistani man about why he was making racist and homophobic comments concerning the gentleman’s possible fatal stoning should he travel to the land of his fathers, due to their alleged intractable position on same-sex relationships, Griffin became increasingly disparaging, finally describing him as a “hysterical little poof”.

In the interest of balance, I’m sure Nick would like a platform from which to express himself, but fortunately i choose how to portray him here (that’ll be like the bigoted twat he is then) so here is his victorious appearance on the BBC political discussion show, Question Time in full.

Prepare to shout at the screen and/or start swearing…

Now I don’t know about you, but if I was sitting in a pub near someone vomiting out this sort of crap to anyone that would listen, I’d make pretty damn sure that everyone knew I wasn’t anything to do with them, let alone trying to I imagine the sort of monumental disregard for normal human decency it takes to say stuff like that in public.

And yet none of these paragons of public service appear to have the remotest compunction about spewing their bilious opinions into the gutter of the information superhighway, and even have the gall to be surprised when the world at large takes offence.
Although in a recent development it seems as though Nigel Farage has finally lost the confidence of his party, saying that he’s going to take a step back from politics, to enable him to “get a grip” apparently.

About fucking time Nige, that’s all I can say.

Update – The excellent Adam Pain at A World Of Pain has written a response post to this little rant, which you can read here.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on August 23, 2013 in Blogging, social networking

 

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To live and die in cyberspace…

It’s strange to think that an entire generation will grow up without having known a world which wasn’t cocooned inside the World Wide Web, everyone on the planet only a mouse-click or screen-tap away from everyone else.
And all that time, they’ll be documenting, photographing, tweeting, sharing, and yes, blogging, about every detail of their lives.

For example, here I am writing this post, the act of consigning these very words to virtual perpetuity frozen in the technological amber of our age.

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And everyone that comes into the world from this moment on has the opportunity to chronicle their whole existence, from cradle to grave, laid out on the global slab of the Internet for all to see, if they so wish.

But how wary should we be of committing our every experience, wish, and desire to the memory of the great hivemind?

In this age of surveillance, cyber crime and identity theft, how wise is it to have every detail of your life available to anyone with a laptop or smartphone?

(I’m well aware of the irony of this question, given my insistence on using my trusty phone for all things web-related, but I do so fully conscious that anything I don’t want people to see, I shouldn’t put online)

There are obviously a great many advantages to being so instantly connected to the rest of humanity.
The support that can be given to friends and family in times of strife is greatly enhanced by the ability to chat and interact via e-mail and on social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter.

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I myself largely discovered Facebook after using the site to communicate with old friends during the sad time following the death of a close mutual friend a couple of years ago, and it does encourage you to stay in touch.
I also have a friend overseas who is currently going through a rough time after the death of a loved one, and I know that she will have many online friends to rely on for support in the days ahead.

Parents separated by mere distance can share in the moment of their child’s birth via the wonder of technology.

Wherever you choose to tie the knot, pictures of the happy couple’s big day can be beamed around the planet quicker than you can say “Squeeze together at the back please”

Or, if any of you have a lot of show business friends, you could always stage a massively successful viral video marriage proposal extravaganza, like Isaac did.

And, believe it or not, you can now even attend a funeral via the Internet.

But where will it stop?
We still have the distinctly sci-fi, and slightly sinister Google Glass to be rolled out to the masses, after being test driven by the elite few who managed to grab a pair of the ultra-high-tech cyber-goggles on their initial release.

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“Yay!  Now my friends can see me go to the toilet” – A Glassing victim, yesterday.

Theoretically, you will now be able to record your every millisecond of consciousness, in super-surround-sound-360º-high-definition-3D-holo-vision.
In a few hundred years, anthropological archaeology will be a dying art, you’ll be able to dial up entire life experiences to answer any questions you have about the past.

Having grown up without the all-encompassing interconnectedness of everything, it’s a pleasant novelty to make friends with people on the other side of the globe, even knowing I will almost certainly never meet them. But a new generation will come to take this for granted, forging lifelong relationships with people many thousands of miles away, most of whom will remain nothing more than lines of computer code floating in the ether.

Ultimately, this new era of global interaction between people of different cultures, races, and religions could lead to a less prejudiced, more tolerant society.

Just as long as we can put that into practice in the real world too…

 
 

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Tools of the tirade…

Having made my resolution to continue work on this, my first full year of blogging, I decided that I needed to embark on a burst of promotional duties to ensure that all my hard work would not go unappreciated.

In my ignorance, at the beginning I had assumed that once I had written a couple of pithy posts, and a few loyal readers had shared my wisdom amongst their friends, a cultural revolution would sweep across the entire internet, with me held triumphantly upon it’s metaphorical shoulders…

Well, ok, maybe I hadn’t envisaged that exactly, but it hadn’t really occurred to me the sheer numbers of blogs out there that I would be competing against.
Except I’ve now found that it’s even more complicated than that.

Because the thing I’ve discovered is, I’m not really competing, not in the real sense of partisan self-interest that would be involved in, for example, journalism, when everyone is chasing the same story or trying to steal each others scoops.
You see, what I failed to take into account is, bloggers are really nice people.

Everyone that I’ve so far had any contact with on my brief foray into the blogosphere has been, without exception, helpful, friendly, and more than willing to give advice and support to novices like myself.

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Whether it’s someone from tumblr taking the time to promote me on their blog, the staff at the excellent BlogCatalog making me feel so welcome when I had no idea what I was doing, or a fellow blogger and new follower/followee giving me tips on finding inspiration, it’s really been a revelation how much of a community exists around blogging. And it’s this community spirit that keeps the whole cycle going.
We all love writing, and that’s because we all love reading. So everybody reads other people’s stuff, and they pass it to someone else they think will enjoy it, and they might look to see who passed it to them…….

There might be thousands upon thousands of bloggers out there, hoping someone will pluck their outpourings from the ether, but there are just as many fascinating subjects, places, and opinions that we can be introduced to, that it’s almost impossible to get bored.

Indeed, it’s now in danger of becoming a completely new vice – not getting any writing done because I spend too much time reading other people’s blogs.

But it’s the amount of time that I’ve spent on trying to promote the blog that has meant I’ve barely had any time to write it, so I’ve decided that I’ll rely on the small amount of momentum it’s picked up to increase the readership to a point I’m happy enough with that I don’t need to constantly plug it on every platform available, like some sort of blog-slut.

So, for now, it’s back to the search for inspiration.

I’ve got a feeling there will some nice photos in the next post..

 

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