DuPont Circle Jerk - In Offense of Amanda Congdon
Amanda Congdon is a playful (more than a handful) punchline to some but the inherent misogyny in making those internet jokes leaves a bad taste - kinda like chlorofluorocarbons, babe - trickling down the back of my throat. Still, I'm now prepared to take those stereotypes and bang their black and white keystrokes a bit louder. Amanda Congdon, you are a FUCKIN' WHORE. (Symbol crash, slam the drum solemnly.) I say this in the traditional sense, sensationalized or antiquated, whatever version.
Justify the DuPonce shiller's shit anyway you like but this perverted take on power to the people (or, just yourself) is one of the greatest acts of arrogance and lack of responsibility a blogger could embellish. The reasons are obvious - I will not lay the vulcanized rubber logic out here - and may you rot in a slowish, mud-in-a-box hell contemplating your actions if you don't recognize them in our fantastic time on planet Earth, which, thanks to DuPont, is hosing the gap.
Oh, I know, the problem is mostly I had such great (therefore, unrealistic) expectations of the blogging community. "Change the World" and "Our Bodies, Ourselves" are part of an old paradigm that's viewed as creepy or comedic to a generation that believes five minutes on Twittervision offers a glimpse into our lives. We have this amazing tool to actually globalize the human and humanize the globe (I'm talking about the Internet, not Twatter) and what do we do? Encourage more ways to buy shit and fuck others over.
I guess I am most disappointed that Jeff Jarvis was involved. Perhaps "Idol Critic" was a sign that his past life (dude, you created that thing and your name isn't on its Wikipedia page??) still haunts him, but he's been my model of "Now! Today! Punk Rock Ethos! We're Gonna Fuck Shit Up! And Make Our Own Rules Media!" Sigh. Old blogger, same as the new blogger. I just don't get it. It's not so much that I'm shocked that people put labels on themselves but to go as far as stitches-stapling a price tag to their forehead? And for what? Ad money and the opportunity to say "This is an exciting time. Controversy always comes when groundwork is being laid out."?
Well excuse me Amelia Merry-Fuckin' Earhart, but that shit don't fly over the Hudson, Potomac, or Cripple Creek. Yes, I'm a conflicted sonofabitch. I fell in love with a medium that dressed herself as something new and exciting but the little black dress she resorts to wearing has cumstains dating back to Lydia Pinkham.
I wish I could acquit you.
Justify the DuPonce shiller's shit anyway you like but this perverted take on power to the people (or, just yourself) is one of the greatest acts of arrogance and lack of responsibility a blogger could embellish. The reasons are obvious - I will not lay the vulcanized rubber logic out here - and may you rot in a slowish, mud-in-a-box hell contemplating your actions if you don't recognize them in our fantastic time on planet Earth, which, thanks to DuPont, is hosing the gap.
Oh, I know, the problem is mostly I had such great (therefore, unrealistic) expectations of the blogging community. "Change the World" and "Our Bodies, Ourselves" are part of an old paradigm that's viewed as creepy or comedic to a generation that believes five minutes on Twittervision offers a glimpse into our lives. We have this amazing tool to actually globalize the human and humanize the globe (I'm talking about the Internet, not Twatter) and what do we do? Encourage more ways to buy shit and fuck others over.
I guess I am most disappointed that Jeff Jarvis was involved. Perhaps "Idol Critic" was a sign that his past life (dude, you created that thing and your name isn't on its Wikipedia page??) still haunts him, but he's been my model of "Now! Today! Punk Rock Ethos! We're Gonna Fuck Shit Up! And Make Our Own Rules Media!" Sigh. Old blogger, same as the new blogger. I just don't get it. It's not so much that I'm shocked that people put labels on themselves but to go as far as stitches-stapling a price tag to their forehead? And for what? Ad money and the opportunity to say "This is an exciting time. Controversy always comes when groundwork is being laid out."?
Well excuse me Amelia Merry-Fuckin' Earhart, but that shit don't fly over the Hudson, Potomac, or Cripple Creek. Yes, I'm a conflicted sonofabitch. I fell in love with a medium that dressed herself as something new and exciting but the little black dress she resorts to wearing has cumstains dating back to Lydia Pinkham.
I wish I could acquit you.
