Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Future's Made Of Virtual Heartbreak And Misery, Actually, Jammers

Not that I want this to turn into some god-awful extended Charlie Brooker genital massage, but I read the man himself's latest Guardian column with interest. In it (linky-roo) he told of the view generally expressed by womankind that he needed a wife, and also told of his vehement disagreement with said view. Basically, he was telling the entire Guardian readership that he's either single or has a very understanding girlfriend. Ah-ha, I then chuckled to myself, I wonder how many propositions he's gonna get now, especially seeing as how the yellow blob that used to accompany his column has been replaced with a picture of him looking enticingly dour? Sure enough, a quick browse through the comments to the piece reveals two offers in the first 24 hours after publication to jump his grumpy bones. And God and God alone knows (well, Mr Brooker probably does too) how many e-mails he got from people who thought that a well-crafted bitter bit o'prose would ultimately result in a beautiful future of shouting at the telly together.

Unfortunately, I speak on these matters with depressing experience, as many moons ago I engaged in some gentle e-mail banter with a faceless journo I didn't know who I "met" in a virtual sense through e-mailing a response to his column, and when the situation suddenly exploded into real life, it led to various degrees of rancidness and ended very, very badly. So I would advise the Brooker if he's reading this (Ha! Right) to not be tempted down that road, because all people everywhere are psychos, and that is the honest truth.

It's interesting, though. Think of folks meeting over t'internet and you think of bovine women from Cletusville, Alabama grotesquely coupling with skinny malcontents who live with their mothers. At least I do, but I sometimes have a creeping suspicion that my thinkings are about 5 years out of kilter with reality. Anyhow, is this www.foreplay.i'm-resisting-the-urge-to-make-a-com/cum-pun (Oh come now, Blogger. Sometimes you think you're just so clever with your "I think that's a website ACTUALLY" ways) Er, where was I? Yes, is this print/internet flirtation the future? A chance to really get to know someone's personality before things like, oh I don't know, irritating screechy voices and a tendency to laugh at their own jokes comes into play? Or is it possible to make yourself sound fantastically lovable by carefully writing and rewriting something (So I hear. Me, not so much) thus meaning that if you ever do meet in person, it will be nothing more than an absolute crushing disappointment, and you might as well start off by judging someone on their breast size anyway?

Bah, don't ask me. Like I say, for me, virtual flirtation only resulted in mild liver damage and an inability to read sports pages without spiraling into vicious self-loathing. But hey, that's just me. I'd love the world to prove me wrong.


Councillor Pat Sausage said...

Ahh, I really love you and your blog. AND YOUR EYES <3 (Presumably?)

justrestingmyeyes said...

Oh... I don't know what <3 means. I try to be young, but it doesn't work.

Thank you, tell your friends. BTW, do you want this prize or not, padre?

Councillor Pat Sausage said...

<3 represents a heart! All the cool kids in Crapthorpe are using it nowadays. (There are 2 cool kids in Crapthorpe.)

The prize: not sure. Haven't decided.

justrestingmyeyes said...

Christ, just goes to show what my mind is like at 5:48pm on a stressful Friday. I thought it was some tits, or mayhap a pair of butt cheeks.

I can promise you that you won't dislike the prize. Unless you're really, really Buddhist. Note: the prize is not a t-shirt with "I HATE BUDDHISTS" on it.