I received the nicest invite to join Blog Sisters from Jeneane Sessum. As much fun as this organization looks to be, I’m going to have to keep my weblogging to the two existing blogs or I’ll never finish the damn books and you’ll have to listen to me bitch about living on the streets and blogging from the San Fran public library. However, I plan on being a regular reader and comment dropper.
There were several different responses to the “weblogging criticism” topic, as it can be called. Jonathon does own it, but others such as Mike (who elected me mayor, BTW), AKMA, and OnePotMeal have added deft and talented touches to what is a non-trivial and difficult topic.
However, it was Victor who put this whole thing into perspective for me, and he really wasn’t necessarily a part of the “criticism” discussion.
As he and I chatted in his comments related to a posting where he was basically blasting Cluetrain to ribbons (and dragged my name into the mix at one point, the bad boy), he mentioned “You mean it’s like a Sunday lunch?”
Say what?
Victor defined this expression to mean sitting around lunch on Sunday, getting into heated discussions on “…any topic under the sun.”
It’s a Sunday Lunch. There is a world of meaning in this simple little phrase, isn’t there?
With this expression, criticism has now removed it’s fat ugly butt from the realm of “You’re an idiot, you lack sophistication, you’re not smart, and your weblog design stinks…and so does your breath…and your mama’s breath, too!” (a connotation somewhat due to the association with Dvorak’s unfortunate comments), and has now plunked its much cuter, slimmer, and firmer little ass into the realm of “You have said something interesting and I don’t necessarily agree — let’s have a grand old time talking about it, shall we?”
It’s a Sunday Lunch — this works for me.
