From the Eponymous release and The Matrix soundtrack

One of the things that seriously disappoints me about the blogosphere or whatever the fuck you want to call it is that there's so little experimentation with the form. It's like, "Oo, I can publish. . . text. And quote stuff. And add comments to it."

Yeah. Fascinating. You're changing the world. Go you.

And don't mention "Fisking." Just don't. I like you. I'd hate to have to shoot you in the face and skullfuck the exit wound.

Photoblogs/moblogs/audio blogs, those are cool. Even if I don't visit -- or, looking over my links list, link -- any of them very often, at least they're doing something different.

Let's think outside the box here, people.

Hell, let's even acknowledge the existence of the box in the first fucking place.

Update: You know, VampWillow seems to be less veiny and evil than I am, writing for the Guardian about this topic, more or less:

The revolution should not be eulogised:

Weblogs have enraptured masses of people and are routinely described in outrageously overblown terms. They have been discussed quite seriously as the future of academia, journalism, and even democracy. But many over-enthusiastic commentators seem blinded to historical precedent or blinkered by their insistence on describing the new form in terms of familiar institutions.

Enthusiasm abounds. Bloggers enjoy describing themselves as pioneers, though their ideas of innovation are sometimes suspect. "We are writing ourselves into existence," some ecstatically proclaim, as if Pepys and Boswell and the historic legions of their fellow journal-writers had never existed. These bloggers, who tend to use their weblogs as public, interactive diaries, are as enthralled by their discovery of online community as were those who stumbled upon the early computer Bulletin Board Systems in the 1980s and Usenet in the 1990s. The communities that weblogs create and the act of writing every day to a real audience have transformed lives, but such experiences are not unique to weblogs, nor even to the Internet.

And I expect I should remove -- or temporarily disable -- the link to Willow. And send her that Fred Astaire - Ginger Rogers movie poster I said I was going to put in the mail last week. . .