| Thursday, January 31, 2002 |
 | Well, what did you expect? Wil Wheaton (whose weblog I refuse to read for any reason other than the investigative until he learns to spell Will) is the closest thing weblogging has to a celebrity. By which I mean he's the only person with any public profile whatsoever outside perhaps the least useful application to hit the Internet yet. Wil Wheaton might just about be able to leverage the last dying embers of his quasi-celebrity into getting a table near the kitchen at a not-very-hot hot restaurant. The other heroes of weblogging wouldn't get past the front door. Of their own homes. Because they had a new webcam and wanted to wire it up to deliver the greatest possible value to their audience.
And, however strange it may be, people in their own flipper-clapping special way do care about the Wheatster. A cursory examination reveals that his comments pages rapidly ascend into triple figures, which is in the way of things pretty good going as far as I can tell. And a good few of those don't follow the "Dude! I eat bread too! Crazy!" paradigm. Well, some of them.
Just live with the defeat, kittens. As webloggers, our natural constituency is bored technogeeks. Wheaton can appeal to bored geeks of every flavour.
Meanwhile, I've been put forward as a nominee for "Most Bitchy" at the low-fi GBloggies. If I win I will use my award to help children in need and advance peaceful solutions in the Middle East.
I've wanted to be Miss World ever since I was molested.
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