1. Overdo the poignancy. Deserved or not.



2. While everyone mentions the celebrity's most famous role or work, be contrary and say that you liked some obscure project he/she did that no one even remembers, or a time in their distant youth as opposed to their productive years. Points for remembering something that had nothing to do with their life's work. Extra points for pretending to be precognitive.

Examples:

"Everyone recalls Patrick Swayze's roles in Ghost, Dirty Dancing, and Donnie Darko. For me (dramatic pause) he will always be Ace Johnson in 1979's Skatetown U.S.A.. When Swayze skated, uh, in that town in the U.S.A., I could see there was acting magic in him."


His finest role.


"Certainly, everyone remembers the dignified and trusted older man. But few remember when he was a young hustler, working the Tenderloin District. Standing on the corner in his tight cut-offs and kerchief, leaning against a lamppost with his left hip saucily cocked out—that will always be the way I remember Walter Cronkite."



Uncle Walter in later, happier, non-hustler years.


3. Go overboard with your description of that one time you saw him/her.



Jim Carroll playing Leonardo Dicaprio

Example: "I was at CBGB's watching the Ramones when Jim Carroll flew onstage, unannounced. Suddenly, everyone in the audience was simultaneously cured of blindness and cancer, and my erectile dysfunction became nothing more than a bad memory. After reading his poem, "Jesus Christ, I Shot Up a Lot of Smack" he fed the multitudes with five loaves and two fishes. I got to shake his hand, and he told me the hour and date of my death while impregnating me with his palm—and I'm a guy. Greatest night of my life."

4. YOU ARE HIS OR HER AVATAR OF VENGEANCE. Be sure to remind the offender that the celebrity had a family. Moreover, all of the celebrity's survivors are highly sensitive people who peruse the blogosphere while making funeral arrangements, prepared to burst into tears at the merest slight of their beloved's character.



HOW DARE YOU MALIGN HENRY GIBSON!?!?! ARRRRRGGGGGGHHH!!!!

Example: "Hey! Don't put down episode #46 of Charlie's Angels. Lee Majors and Ryan O'Neal might read my blog, you bastard!"




"What can you say about a 62-year-old girl who died? It better be good, you bastards, because I might read it! Right after I visit my kid in prison on my way back from treatment for my leukemia. I've got time."

5. All is forgiven in death.







"Wasn't Thriller a great album?"

Side note: I think this is my Cracked.com impression. Now, watch as I do Rich Little.

You know what Twitter has over Live Journal? Crank control. Even when Joe Blow is outraged OUTRAGED! at your latest post, he can't crank his graphomania up to 11. I think the restriction of 140 characters actually intimidates the cranks as much as writing a book freaks out the rest of us. "What? I can't draw on every bit of knowledge in my brain? I can't thrash you with 6,000 words that say nothing more than 'You are wrong'? Forget it, man." Then there's the bonus of not providing them with the real estate upon which they may squat and vent. They have to Tweet on their own account, hoping your eye will fall across their retort on the Reply page (though, again, 140 characters is like a pin prick beside the slashing and burning opportuities offered by LJ and other blogs). Tumblr goes one better by providing only the ability to reblog. It's like benches in a city park, when they place a "bum bar" through the middle so Box Car Willy can't stretch out and nap.

On the other hand, the serial Twitterers are beginning to look even more nuts to me than the diarrhetic bloggers. The need, the urgent DESIRE to constantly dribble out a meaningless thought a minute is pathetic; evidence of a small and lonely soul, scorned by all; loved by no one.

I am referring to myself, of course.

I've noticed that, more so than blogs, MySpace, Facebook, and other social networking tools, Twitter has pulled in way more marketers seeking to hit people hard, fast, succinctly, "personally," and way freaking too often. At least it's made it easier for them to pierce my defenses against such encroachment. What would the word be? Twitter Cooties? Twooties?

I swear, they're more prevalent than the amateur porn starlets who kept turning up in my MySpace mailbox, though rather than a photo of a barely legal chick in a halter top sucking a lollipop, the Twitterer looks more like a freshly scrubbed Colgate model. Every Tweet sounds like they've received a espresso enema, and have that friendly yet empty tone of someone trying to sell you something by pretending to be your friend. I never follow back because I already have to plow through about 10 to 20 posts from local newspapers every half hour just to see what my friends are doing. Why would I want to add 500 self-referential plugs and links about using Twitter to refer customers to more plugs and links about Twitter?

And why don't more people use Twitter to talk about important stuff? Like Chicago architecture, Alien, and Lovecraft?

I mean REALLY.

Mike asked me how I'm able to maintain my Facebook, Twitter, and LiveJournal every day, and hinted at another question: WHY? I told her that I'm actually a piker compared to some Net denizens, but generally it's because I'm a writer, and occasionally I have little bits of detritus floating around in my skull that wouldn't sell in any other format.

Still, she inspired me to assess all my online personas. Let's, shall we?

* In light of this, I wonder if it's time to update my PDF book of all my LiveJournal entries, delete the whole shebang, and move over to my Web site blog (which remains in limbo, despite a recent failed literary experiment I hope to restart some day).

* My tumblog seems to have run its course. Originally, its spareness held some appeal for me, but it was like filling up a barrel with cotton balls during a windstorm. While people like RocketJumper make excellent use of the tumblog format, I'm not sure what I can do there anymore.

* My Facebook remains friends, business acquaintances, former (rather than current) workmates, and family only, so please don't be offended if I don't add you. It's good for showing off photos of Nate mostly. Screening keeps the gadflies out too.

* My Vox blog was dandy for sharing music until Last.FM came along and did all the heavy lifting for me. Vox was okay, but Last.FM was what I really wanted: an ongoing survey of what I was listening to at the time. Too bad I can't include my cassettes and vinyl on the lists. I really should get around to converting some of the old college and zine days mix tapes into MP3s.

* Often, over the years, I would claim space at different blogging venues just to keep the mrdankelly brand name, such as it is, out of the hands of ne'erdowells. This explains anomalies like the Mr. Dan Kelly Greatestjournal, which I haven't used in like... ever.

* My Flickr account remains in action, though now it's more inaction because I hit the limit of photos I could store without paying for my account. I like taking pictures, but I don't have the bug that more competent shutterbugs like xgray and semibold have, so I don't see any reason to pay for more space. Hell, LiveJournal stores 'em for free. For now.

* Twitter was another case of grabbing the mrdankelly space before some... uh... other Dan Kelly did. There are quite a few of us, you know. One friended me then bitched about my lame MySpace photos because they risked making him, a skater duderino, look lame. While it might have been amusing to tell myself to fuck off, I just dropped him and that was that. at first twitter seemed like an utterly inane idea. It remains an utterly inane idea, but at least I have an iPod now, thereby justifying the practice of texting.

* My MySpace page. I abandoned ship the minute friends of mine started to board Facebook, and I haven't looked back. I've hated that thing since I created it, and I don't think it's because I'm neither a band nor a 16-year-old girl. WHY is MySpace still so damned ugly?

* I have regrets about one abandoned blog, though it technically wasn't my fault it didn't survive. I started chicagorevenant to chart my 2006 trip through the Deep South. It had a snazzy tagline (Irish Chicagoan Voodoo Barbecue Blues), and a nifty piece of art snatched from Marvel's Tales of the Zombie comic, but faulty Internet service in two hotels put the kibosh on posts from the road. I did alright via ye old analog method (pen and paper), and after much transcription I produced, I think, some of my best blogging ever (this took place over the course of a week, so just keep clicking "Next Entry"). I wish I could stay focused like that here, or indeed anywhere. Friends have complimented me on my multiple interests. I think it's a slight curse. If I focused on and specialized in a specific subject I think I'd be more productive. As it is, I'm just a big damn weirdo who flitters from subject to subject. Boo hoo hoo. Nobody likes a Dan in the box.

Maybe focus should be my watchword this year. There's still time left, right? Right?

Sob!

I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, there's no reason to do this song here.

Debate topic: What is the best blogging service?

All the people who read my blog are dead! IT'S HORRIBLE!

What I wouldn't give to hear their voices one last time. And a sandwich. To hear their voices one last time while eating a really good sandwich. Though in some cases I might just want the sandwich.

I miss creating long-form entries. So, when I get back into the blogging groove, what would like to see me discuss, OR what would you like me to return to blogging about?

"Lex Luthor Is a Fucker" is begging for a revival, I think.

Col. Gentleman's list of five things mrdankelly never knew until he got a LiveJournal.

1. He is wrong about almost everything.
2. He's not nearly angry enough to fight to the death over weighty subjects like the oeuvre of George Lucas.
3. Memes are bad after the third person participates in them.
4. His Gothic Lolita wardrobe is sadly lacking.
5. He's too old for this blogging shit and should start writing for money again.

Throw some blogging subjects my way. I'm bone dry. When did I become so damn boring?

Lisa is wondering why I haven't been posting more often. Me too.

Actually, it feels like things are winding down on LJ. Has Time magazine declared blogging over? Because I always do whatever Time tells me to do.

Ask me a question. I'm bored.