Blogger Psychology

I went to this women's blogging seminar and the girl in front of me--dark hair, 25ish, big black glasses, well put-together--turned around and asked me what I did. I responded that I loved celebrities--really loved them--and tried to be nice. She said, "You can't be nice. No one wants to read that..." then whirled around in her seat.

Oh yeah? Well, I don't care, girly. Okay, maybe it's more complicated than that. I have mean thoughts, sure. But, ask anyone, I really am obsessed with stars I see as awesome. I can't stop thinking about them. They are my CO2, the release I need after a long day.

I've been thinking of the blogger's thought pattern, especially after reading the exchange between a blogger on thegloss.com and Evan Marriott, Joe Millionaire from a thousand years ago. The initial post is mean, and EM responded eloquently*. The blog changed its mind about Evan--all is forgiven. I might have done the same thing if a star confronted me on a mean item I'd written. After bullying in the headlines and a confrontation with Jennifer Aniston, Perez Hilton changed his tone from mean to nicer. There isn't the funny edge anymore but he might sleep better.

The idea of curtailing freedom of speech saddens me. Some super-funny critics nail it (thank you, Anthony Lane and David Denby of the New Yorker), but generally, the culture of blogging and critiquing has become nastier. It's "honest" to be mean, right? I hear people on the street yelling into their phones lines I heard on Real Housewives the night before. The pointing of the finger is everywhere. But who doesn't like a good zinger? When they come in a flood, a sassy four-eyed brunette can transform into a bottom-feeder, bold enough to criticize an elder for wanting to be nice.

At the gym, I watched fifteen minutes of Mob Wives and started to hyperventilate from the cattiness. I had to run home to my sanctuary.

Those my deep yet unresolved thoughts of the day. Time for an afternoon scotch.

*Except he needs a lesson in using a comma of direct address--a Dish pet peeve