What was the internet missing?

As I've been flooded with time for self reflection lately I've been searching for an outlet for my angst and creative urges.

I have been told I'm a good writer often enough to believe it. But it turns out I wasn't the only one good at it, and my good was hardly even satisfactory. I'm like the girl from the farm who everyone said she's such a good actress. So she up and moves to Hollywood before college, only to find out there are about 3,000 other farm-girl actresses that just got off the train from the midwest that morning. Soon our girl, realizing she's no better than the other few thousand all looking to make their mark, must decided how much fellatio she's going to engage in for a two-bit, guest spot on CSI: Miami. I'm like the farm girl except I'm sure no amount of fellatio will get me a gig, which is good cause I have too much of a gag reflex to be any good at it.

I'm going on two months unemployed, little particular savings or networking, and prospects with both such optimism and sparse substance as to remind you of a weatherman: "It's a beautiful morning, with 50/50 odds of thunderstorms as we approach the afternoon."

With such little structure and purpose to my life I thought to myself what could I bring to the world, and how could I bring it there without leaving my room? Ok, well I can use the internet, sweet that's half the criteria met. Now what is the internet lacking? Sports statistics? No. Pornography? No, plenty of that. How about a giant bird's eye view of the whole planet? Shit, has that too!

Wait! What about another series of self-centered, self-aggrandizing, fanatical rants which endlessly mocks a flawed popualr culture that I as the writer hate so much as to dissect and revel in without prompting? Perhaps I could throw out views about politics, art, science, ethics, history, life, death, sex, and K-Fed? Maybe I could offer my own opinions without invitation, accountability, or relevance! Maybe I could toss my non-existant digital hat into a non-existant digitial ring, so full of conflicting voices and information as to make Jacques Hadamard say "Fuck, this is just too crazy."

Yes, it sounds like I have no choice. The internet is a lost little lamb, wandering and incomplete, so full of dirty pictures and recycled English-Lit papers it just doesn't know what to do with itself. Certainly the world-wide-web is crying out for someone to make more sense of this cyber community then to call it "a series of tubes." Clearly the internet needs someone's opinion to sort everything out, with the tonage of unemployed free time I have, I'd be crazy not to step up.

Ok these rants sound doable, but only if they're badly needing proper editing and rational counterpoint to views so extreme as to once get me called John Lennon. I want to be sure that whatever dirvel I spout doesn't get capped by some Madison Avenue, key-demographic, soul patch sporting asshat worried about what they might think in Peoria.

It seems like the blog is the only method that will allow me maximum opinion-making with minimal imput or oversight. My blog will be at the end of the world, the world wide web, and if you are so kind as to read this with any regularity, then please read it last. Take in everything the world offers you every day, and right before bed, log on here to see if there's anything you missed.

Well, it's agreed then, I'll constuct a witty, astute narrative, seemlessly combining meaningless common activities into mass metaphores about how the world would be better off listening to a nearly 24 year old unemployed stoner with no job, no girlfriend, and no acomplishments to his name. What? I forgot to mention I'm a stoner? Well I'm going to need something to write about next time....