Livejournal is a poor forum for truth. So said, none of this is true.
In a world where offense is taken at the slightest slight, Livejournal presents the writer with a peculiar audience, an audience consisting entirely of friends. In a more standard outlet, negative repercussions emanating from a critical statement or disparate opinion are only felt when financial (and, of late, physical) securities are threatened, whereas in Livejournal, since every reader at least purports concord with the author, one ofttimes feels obligated to censure his words, thus circumventing possible drama. Though an informal medium, (conscientious) Livejournal users too often acquiesce to converging societal pressures, resulting in a vacuity of reality: truth is jilted for harmony's sake--reality repressed, revamped, rewritten; nothing means anything.
And that, perhaps, is everything.
If veracity is obsolete, or at least ill-suited with popularity, does fallacy succeed?
Nescience certainly better facilitates friendship than exacting truth, but sophistic veneers only extrapolate the vacuity sustained in self-censored writings to every day life, ultimately dissolving the very relationships the writer strives through his empty words to maintain, and, yet, such facades are still employed to appease spuriously conceived notions of congeniality.
Oh well.
That wasn't even the point of this post.
I was supposed to make a free speech argument, but I really didn't care.
And then I was going to mention Islam and its current vendetta against such free speech.
And then the impetus of the post:
I made myself a T-shirt. (Iron-on is the way to go.)
Um, I'm mostly hoping someone will be offended, try to kill me, and get my name into a nationally circulated paper. But I guess no one bothers keeping up with the news. You won't even laugh. Or so it goes.
Good-by!
And that, perhaps, is everything.
If veracity is obsolete, or at least ill-suited with popularity, does fallacy succeed?
Nescience certainly better facilitates friendship than exacting truth, but sophistic veneers only extrapolate the vacuity sustained in self-censored writings to every day life, ultimately dissolving the very relationships the writer strives through his empty words to maintain, and, yet, such facades are still employed to appease spuriously conceived notions of congeniality.
Oh well.
That wasn't even the point of this post.
I was supposed to make a free speech argument, but I really didn't care.
And then I was going to mention Islam and its current vendetta against such free speech.
And then the impetus of the post:
I made myself a T-shirt. (Iron-on is the way to go.)
Um, I'm mostly hoping someone will be offended, try to kill me, and get my name into a nationally circulated paper. But I guess no one bothers keeping up with the news. You won't even laugh. Or so it goes.
Good-by!