Blogstipation

Happy New Year. What to say about my inability to blog? My blogstipation — if you will. Here, in London, the pissed old farts who run the print media have, belatedly and half-assedly, realised the significance of this new literary form. It’s true, guys, we’re all going down, or rather, the prints are going to fold. However, Marshall McLuhan was wrong, the medium is not the message; or rather, the idea that user-generated content is going to supplant the need for a caste of professional scribes is nonsense. Something like the newspaper will endure — but on the web. In the meantime, hacks on the London Guardian are required to enter the blogosphere, and, since their email addresses are also at the bottom of their print columns, engage in lengthy discussions with the iPod-heads. Those at the Telegraph even have to do their stuff as podcasts. Thank Nike the editors I work for haven’t sicked on to this. Yet.