The Fredösphere

Lileks takes about five unrelated threads and weaves them into a gorgeous mosaic.

[Perhaps there's a way I can disguise my shame in using that metaphor.  Must.  Adopt.  Tone. Of.  Self.  -Deprecatory.  Irony.]

Today he's covering the repulsive shallowness of the pop culture and its acolytes, and he's on fire.  If only Jerry Falwell had half of Lilkes' meterosexual hipness, the history of the late 20th century would have been written very differently.

I really do prefer the bad old days, when celebrities had to lie. Because it least it meant that there was some standard to which they were obliged to pay lip service.

Yes.  We need some kind of system.  Call it a tax.  Or tribute money.  Except it wouldn't be paid in money, but hypocrisy.  So vice could pay it.  To virtue.  Sort of.  I dunno; I don't quite have this pulled all together, but when I do, I'll let you know.  I'm sure it will be brilliant.

No magazine really reflects the world as I see it. They either magnify an interesting portion beyond its importance, or float off into irrelevance. Which is why I prefer the internet. Every day, a thousand pages. We make it. It’s our magazine. It’s the true pop culture, and the only question is how long it will take before the democratization of information makes the old celebrity paradigm irrelevant.

In the future, everyone will be hyperlinked for fifteen minutes. And that’s a good thing.

Yes, a very good thing -- if I get my turn.  So, how about it mister big internet footprint guy sir, I link to you, and you link back to me.  Seems fair, right?  Perfectly symetrical, I think.  Downright symbiotic.