(Note to literalists: the Watched column presently contains only a smattering of 'warblogs' because the facilitator of the template-change--Dr. Menlo--is not very familiar with them, and will be adding more as they are sent to him. Also, this blog may contain areas of allusion, satire, subtext, context and possibly even a dash of the surreal: wannabe lit-crits beware.)
Control
[Watch this space for: Pentagon and Petroleum, The Media is only as Liberal as the Corporations Who Own Them, Wash Down With, and Recalcify]
WARBLOGGER WATCH
Friday, February 20, 2004
A WALK AROUND THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD. Betcha never thought you'd see me again. But here I am, with a purpose.
I am a former contributor to this site (Comrade Olivier said I "traded down" back in March 2003 to run another rag- and bone-shop of the heart; let history judge, old friend) who recently grew nostalgic and took a jaunt through the WBW archives.
What I saw cheered me. Not only because the contributions of Mssrs. Menlo, Shropshire, Olivier, Blair, et alia, still fall pleasingly upon the retina, being sturdily-composed and well-aimed brickbats in the finest tradition of truth spoken to power, though good writing is always a pleasure.
No, it was gratifying to see how far we had all come. Back in the early, dark days of WBW, the internet was inundated with seas of spittle drooling from the chops of dumbasses and plug-uglies so numerous that it seemed (it may now be admitted) a bootless, even Quixotic, task to monitor and confront them. Those were the heady days of war fever: anticipation of a worldwide wog holocaust drew countless sub-literates to the blogging board, and at times it seemed as if the internet itself had gone mad with bloodlust.
But now look: one by one by one, a thoroughly encouraging number of our betes noir have skedaddled from public view.
Some, true, have gone on to other atrocities. But their old warblogger triumphalism seems to have drained from them. They talk about "culture" as if they knew what it was, or revert to their native geek behaviors, or otherwise trawl the less gunpowder-scented backwaters of domestic policy.
Are the reasons not obvious? The jig is nearly up. Their Fearless Leader plummets in the polls, and prays for NASCAR and anti-gay backlash to haul him back into the seat of power come November. What a falling-off is here, for the onetime presumptive Emperor of All Arabia!
Many idiots still ply their web trade, but the kill-craze of their glory days has passed. They struggle feebly to connect Democratic frontrunners with salacious interns, and gnash their teeth.
All told, I'd say we did a wonderful job. I see that Mr. Shropshire seems alone at the bridge now, and that he has not made a log entry in some time. That's fine. The worst of the storm is past, and we appear to be headed into more peaceful waters. But be assured, brave helmsman, that if the seas should rise again, you will find plenty of salt-cured hands on deck. -- RE