That’s Mr. Blogger to you guys…
I’ve always hated the word… Blogger. Even without referencing its auditory resemblance to gelatinous masses ejected from nasal cavities, I still don’t like it. Blogger. Say it aloud. It sounds as if you are talking with a mouth full of food you are trying to prevent from escaping. Or perhaps it sounds like some did escape.
Either way, what does it mean? One who has a weblog? Look that up in a hip glossary and it does not cover what I do. This is no “on-line diary.” People outside the blogospehre don’t like the word either. After all, bloggers (as we all know) don’t have the systems of checks and balances like they have in a traditional newsroom.
It was my adventure debunking Professor Hailey that lead me to an epiphany. I no longer what(sic) to be called a blogger and neither should you.
We are not bloggers, We are independent, peer reviewed journalists.
Which reminds me of an old joke that ends:
“That’s a wee wee.”
“No. This is a penis.”
“Oh no. I’ve seen a penis before, and that’s a wee wee.”