HOUSEKEEPING

by Ross Sharp

Housekeeping 1 –

I’ve just deleted a bunch of posts.

Why?

Didn’t like ‘em. They were lazy, or old, or just plain dumb.

Meh.

It’s too easy on a blog to just see some shit, some headline, some idiotic claptrap masquerading as “news” or “opinion” or whatever and fall into the trap of simply being reactive. Dumbly reactive. And frankly, nothing that the likes of Gerard Henderson or Miranda Devine or Andrew fucking Bolt has to say on any topic is worth a hill o’ beans in the grand scheme of things when you really think about it.

I gave up reading Bolt months ago. Same with Henderson. And Devine’s so relentlessly, impenetrably fruit-loopy that just one or two paragraphs of her deranged twaddle can seriously damage your mental health.

And the sum total of pretty much everything they write adds up to this …

“We’re all fucked, and it’s [Insert ideology, race, religion, political affiliation] fault”

Add exclamation marks. Add comments from barely articulate, illiterate fuckwits furiously nodding their pimply little pinheads in agreement.

I saw this quote today in an article by David Greenberg on Slate describing fringe conservatism as “irritable mental gestures that seek to resemble ideas”.

Reckon so.

And Ol’ Rupert thinks people are going to pay to read a bunch of “irritable mental gestures” from batshit crazy creative typists who labour under the delusion they’re journalists?

Pig’s arse we will.

I’d pay for Slate. For The New York Times. A couple others. If the price were right. But Fairfax in its current state? News Limited?

Fuck off.

Housekeeping 2 –

I can’t access Google blog functionality from the computer I’m using. So, if you have a Google blog, and you’re on my blogroll and I’ve never darkened the towels over at your crib, it’s ‘cause I can’t. You feel me, yo?

Housekeeping 3 –

Ross. You are not an African-American resident of Baltimore, and you are not a character from “The Wire”. Knock it off with the fucking lingo.

Dickhead.

UPDATE

colourNOmovement questions my identity crisis, and provides incontrovertible proof that I am, in reality, Michael Jackson in reverse …

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You made me look like Stringer Bell, cNm. Damn, I can live with that …

“Red Tops! Got them Red tops! Pandemic! Right here for that Pandemic! … A’right, I’m feelin’ it, yo.”

(Illustration by cNm from The colourNOmovement Declarations © 2009 cNm. Reproduced by kind permission.)

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