Cwabs!

Back in my Livejournal days, I would occasionally distill a week’s worth of blog entries that I’d read into a Harper’s Weekly-esque summary of everything everyone had done. So and so went to the zoo. Somebody else got drunk and made an ass of themselves. In the interest of keeping things interesting, if the posts I’d read for the week was about what you thought about whatever topic was at hand, I didn’t include it.
The point then was to capture the events, the actions of my friends lives. Not what they were watching on television. Not what they thought about a particular piece of legislation, or their opinion on a work of art. Not that there isn’t a place for opinions, of course.
Lately, however, I’ve found myself reading things (less on tumblr and more elsewhere) from folks who seem to want their doctorate in criticism. People who’ve made it their mission to get offended by other people’s work, and to complain about it. And I’ve come to the realization that this form of writing is borne out of the pundit class—the people who believe commentary is an art form greater than creation.
I guess I’ve become exhausted by it, but I’ve reached a conclusion that if the best you have to offer is praise or criticism of somebody else’s efforts, and you’re not making something new, or having your own adventures, I can probably do without enduring what you have to say about the people who are.