Errbody knows it ain’t trickin if you got it

It’s just that every time I sit down to consciously start writing, I start thinking about how Julia Allison is probably sitting down to start liveblogging pictures of herself dressed as an upside down cupcake, and thousands of little girls with access to MacBook Photo Booths are concurrently contorting themselves into poses that only make you think of their fathers, and dashing off tumblr posts about Edward Cullen that not only misuse both forms of “you’re,” but also elucidate on the sexiness of physically controlling “romantic” behavior.  And then I remember that at the same time, Sarah Palin is tucking in to pen another incoherent page of her next memoir filled with gems about what being an American has to do with hunting, and Lauren Conrad is dictating the vapidity of Reality TV to a well-paid ghostwriter in order to put the bowels of the television world into writing, and Sue Grafton and Dan Brown are whipping out their mini laptops spewing forth the stuff of a new generation of Airport novels.

It’s like, there’s just too much.

The computer has done more to fuel the aspirations of people who would never have passed the writing section of the SAT than probably even the Tea Party Movement.