First off, please read this link before reading the rest of the post;http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2009/jun/24/charles-arthur-blogging-twitter

The above link, in case you didn’t click on said link, was an interesting piece I read on the Guardian’s web site recently, about the fact that blogging from the normal people was dying on it’s flabby arse simply because thinking up stuff to write about to an audience of about 2 or 3 people who are more than likely your parents is hard and the wonderful thing about the likes of Twitter, is that you can write stuff quickly and not to think as much about writing as you only have a small space to fill.

You know what? He has a very good point.

And in fact I am beginning to wonder about something more fundermental: When are we all going to get bored with Facebook, Twitter and all the other soical things about the interweb?

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It’s been a trying week for many people out there, with the dirty politicians in Broken Britain trying to smooth over the gaping hole that is their credibility, more jobs on the way to the scrapheap of cost-cutting, North Korea and Iran showing us all how humans clearly should behave, and now more than ever it’s literally every day we are seeing how cruel life can be, it’s become important now that any event gleans a funny side from it, no matter what it is.

And that’s before we even start on the jokes about Michael Jackson, and to carry on the general theme of this, here’s a hugely inappropriate picture designed to annoy people to write hate mail in to Ooh Sometimes:

What? No-one writes to me any more except to tell how to get women into bed….Wait, that’s a good thing, but anyway back to the post.

For the past few days, a great sorrow and bizarre joy has swept people who would rather not worry about anything else, with heavily cut and pasted tribute footage rushed onto the networks and the family questioning everything about the 50-year old’s demise. There have been people dancing in the streets, people were upset…at spending money and not getting it back for his O2 concerts…err…

The radio stations all started blasting out every single song he ever did, and all shops were compelled to my increasing misery down Oxford Circus to the point, I wanted someone to make my ears bleed, just so the red liquid flowing out would block out any more of it.

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