Blogging is passe now.

So Iranian President Ahmadinejad has a new blog and it works, in that "senile grandma in the attic" sort of way. But other than realizing how similar it sounds to Keith Olbermann, it dawned on me that when the elderly, squirrels and crazed dictators start having their own blogs, then blogging is dead.

The worst five words you can hear at a party is "have you read my blog?" Blogs, really, used be called diaries, hidden under the pillows by troubled twelve year old girls. They were usually covered with stickers of rainbows and unicorns (Oh I loved those unicorns). But now everyone has a diary, but they call them blogs and they're asking you to read them - it's disgusting. It's like pulling off a band-aid and saying - I made it myself!

I call it the Sylvia Plath Syndrome - the idea that every nuance of your life should endless fascinate everyone else. At least Plath at the decency to provide a killer ending.

Some think that if you don't blog, you don't have a life. But it's the opposite. You should be happy that you don't write for folks who prefer to live in a disjointed bubble of weirdness where their own self-serving cowardice is masked temporarily by online bravery. It's better to go outside and beat up somebody for real, than beat up someone on the web, while sitting in your feety pajamas, eating Cheetos and drinking Mr. Pibb. Six Cans!

And if you don't agree with me than you are worse than Hitler.

If you'd like to hear more about this - come on back to my blog tomorrow