So one can if they like (thanks to Gawker 24-7) read about which celebrity was seen crossing the street where, which porn magazine sells where and for how much and why such and such gives great head while such and such only gives so so head, you catch our drift. It’s all salacious dribble, mostly fantasy- but you keep reading about it.
It reminds this author about why birds for instance end up feeding young birds (other their own) which sometimes end up in their nest. They do because it’s a bird’s nature to feed and nourish young chicks, but more intriguing is the idea that the constant jerking and pecking back and forth has become so habitual it’s like a junkie who instead of going for a long walk in his free time or picking up a novel to read clicks on his Gawker and shoots up the venom because it’s become so indoctrinated and easy to find.
Ultimately it all comes down to taste and maybe the people over at Gawker are good at preempting people’s taste buds, they know deep down we’d all rather spend the day gorging on pizza and hamburgers than carrot sticks which are healthier for us. Of course the thing with trash journalism is it doesn’t end up on your waistline but more inside your disintegrating brain cells, so pretending one reads James Joyce is easier to do than actually eating carrot sticks, and as long as you can get away with guilty pleasures and not have it’s side effects show up too much in public one will gorge under the false illusion being fed on whose twitter of face book account is false or prematurely out of bounds is fat free.
Of course anyone can tell you, that is a bunch of baloney, cause inevitably you are what you eat and read, and maybe this is what we collectively are now- a bunch of information junkies, intent on knowing as much possible dirt we can on anyone because it’s there to be known and because it feeds on some village mentality (or worse- contempt for those who are doing what only you wish could be doing) that the herd will always thrive on gossip.
Of course not all members of the herd thrive on gossip, and some of it steer away from it, but then again the very definition of the word – ‘herd’ requires one to be indoctrinated to the grazing pastures of our society. It just beguiles us to think of course that the symbiotic duality of why some dating columnist’s facebook existence is more intriguing than some columnist based out of Nepal who is writing about the torture and strife that hints loudly about the real direction of where the world is going or where pockets of it have ended up.
Ultimately in a nation whose identity has been forged on the myth of exceptional-ism, that we are the free ones, the anointed ones, the ones capable of determining our own identity and future (assuming you are that talented, have parents that can afford to take you away from crumbling public schools, pay outs approximating in the millions now that you have been retrenched or have an un burning desire and willingness to eat dirt and plenty of it for your fight to the top) reading about what is happening in some corner of the village has become the defacto getting off on that part of your life you no longer get off on or unable to get off on.
So Gawker, let your ranting, taunting, defacement and gutter beast chest thumping continue- you are after all the school bully one had to face up to on their way into the school grounds, except the public information zone has become the new playground and Gawker the brute that we’re getting accustomed to making out with because they’re the new winners and if you know anything about the herd- herd’s are blind and will follow it’s leaders off the cliff.
