Uh-oh, where are my das pants?

So, as I was driving my car today, I heard someone mention Perez Hilton on the radio. I began thinking, what makes Perez Hilton so special? Is it because he's gay? Is it because his name is a play on Paris Hilton's name? Is it because he looks like a poor conception of a Japanese anime girl?

It could be one, it could be all three.

What he is, obviously, is an attention whore. Honestly, most bloggers are (aside from those who actually have something substantive to write, such as journalists). My blog is more like a creative outlet for me, where I can basically write my thoughts and general feelings about some stupid ephemeral junk that comes to my mind. But, when I look at someone like Perez Hilton (and I REALLY hate looking at him. He looks like Richard Simmons on a bad acid trip, except without the toned quadriceps.), I am reminded of how small our lives are.
Seriously, think about it. We WANT our opinions and feelings to matter. We WANT to be remembered for having strong, righteous, moralistic (in our own minds, at least) opinions. We want to be known. We know somewhere, in the back of our minds, that our lives and thoughts mean very little in the world.
That also sparked some neurosynapses; if we really want to make a mark on the world, be remembered for something, why not make it something great? Why not help those who can't help themselves? Why not go to Africa and teach horticulture to those who see hardly a drop of rain each year? Instead of talking about how celebrities eat too much pizza and have too many adopted kids, why not do something worthwhile with your life?

Well, there's my rant for the week. Now, I shall hibernate in my cave, waiting until Spring comes. If you come to annoy me, well...I'll just have to eat you. With some hot sauce.

Everything goes well with hot sauce.

Das Flüg