“The world needs more blogs like Madonna needs more Botox” writes Norman Chad in his weekly entry for the Washington Post, the culturally savvy columnist concluding, “blogging is writing about as much as working the pole is dancing.”
At least the talk-radio host, after three or four hours of public proclamations, shuts down. But blogs are like 7-Eleven: They have a bunch of stuff you usually don’t need and they never close. The blogger can — and often does — operate at any time of day or night.
Flip Saunders can’t coach? Let me tell everyone how I feel!
Another blown save from Francisco Cordero? Let me tell everyone how I feel!
Just had a rare, late-afternoon bowel movement? Let me tell everyone how I feel!
If a blogger were sitting next to you in a bar, you’d stop drinking.
So, yeah, I recently said no to starting a sports blog. Who wants more of me, other than couples counselors? And why would I want to pollute an already polluted blogosphere? As for those of you who insist on blogging on, I just ask that you be more kind and gentle, less cutting and snide.
Besides, I’m figuring there are no blogs in heaven. Then again, I’m probably looking at purgatory, and firejoemorgan.com might make it a bit less insufferable.