The WordPress blogosphere has been described as a country with a population somewhere between that of France and Great Britain. This guy here, also known as thepublicblogger, has a lot to say about it.
I quite liked the idea.
18,000 citizens, is … if not the capital, then at least a respectable little city therein. And it’s assembled according to an idea, one I find mildly appealing.
Beats cities in the offline world, which are built wherever there happened to be water a couple of hundred years ago, or a nice big rock to hide on top of so people couldn’t stick swords in you. We’ve moved past that.
Haven’t we? Little bit?
Well, on the Internet we have, at least.
It’s still an environment accorded mostly to the fortunate first-worlders, and unified largely by that cheap bastard whore of the language empire, English. But the thing about the first world is, it’s a good thing and, ideally, we should be extending it to occupy and ultimately convert the others. That’s the essence of post-scarcity.
Oh no, we’re not there yet, and it’s a starry-eyed pipe dream to think we can get there within our lifetimes – certainly not the way we’re going, anyway. Something has to give. And give, and give, and give.
And the thing about cheap bastard whores is, everyone sneers at them but they get laid.
We’re a new kind of city, in a new kind of nation. Limited only by the baggage we bring with us from the nations our bodies live in, the baggage bequeathed to us by previous generations, that had no way to even conceive of such a nation. Most of the time that baggage has no purpose and just gets in the way here, but that’s alright. While quaint ideas like ‘city’ and ‘nation’ fall into the baggage-trap, for example, we have a chance to do it differently. Do it right. The baggage makes the place look homely, and when we fight – and oh, we fight; we’re human beings, damnit – it’s with words and pictures and videos and jokes.
It’s a battle of wits, and if that’s not a step forward from the sort with swords – let alone the sort with depleted uranium bullets – then I don’t know what is.
And here we are. And here I am. Hatboy of Hatboy’s Hatstand. Signing myself onto the official census of The Neighbourhood, thriving city-state on the modern English coast of the great nation of Fuckwitaly.
Maybe master census keeper, This guy, can get us birth certificates. I’ll happily collaborate on an anthem.