… but obviously I’m not.
I’ve realised that there were deeper-rooted reasons for not opening up the blog to comments, and they needed explaining. And stop shouting navel gazing! navel gazing!, because there IS a rant here. Also, blogs = navel gazing. So hush.
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1. My biggest problem is with the sheer vacuity of most comments on any online article, post, video, status update, blah blah.
Research shows that 40% of all comments are by those who like the item, in which case they have to inform everyone else how much they just Loooooooooooooooveeeeeee it! Another 40% are by those who do not like the item, which means an abundance of OMG this is such lulz, u obviously don’t know anything n00b. 10% are by people who have nothing to say, but just want to be out there, because yo, Internet 2.5 man! 5% are trolls, and will disagree with the original item, the comments, the comments on the comments, the whole interwebz and the wallpaper it is stuck on. And just 5% are interesting comments which add to the discussion, highlight additional details, and posit alternate plausible theories.
These numbers are always valid, with a 2% margin either way. Solid fact. I’m telling you baba.
Now, RantingBawa is genius blog (What? You know it is). Which means if we throw it open to comments, there will be a flood of them, and since we already know what the vast majority of comments will be like – well, I have enough to rant about already. So, no thanks.
2. Comments from people who know you. Embarassing, very embarassing. Not as much as having to perform part of the navar ceremony nekkid with people watching, but still pretty embarassing. Particularly the ones from family and good friends, which will be all fawning because that’s what one does to a loved one who’s genius.
Or worse, they won’t comment because you’ve told them not to be fawning and then you get upset about why they’re not commenting and call them and do naatak. So they comment, and express happiness at your writing and then you tell them off for fawning. No-win. Or worse worse, if they’re of a generation that first saw computers the size of a room, they will use the commentspace to remind you to call Soli uncle on Thursday because he’s going to Dahanu and he wanted to know if any of your friends want chikoos from his farm.
3. People have an innate desire to meddle, mostly to prove they know better, and on the Internet, they have an innatier* desire to do so. Which means people who actually do any writing are constantly being told by people who read the stuff about what the writers should really be writing about.
Now, sometimes this is helpful, because there’s always something you don’t know about, but can learn of and then write about it. But, given the conditions of the walls close by me, I could do without people directing me to more infuriating, frustrating and downright idiotic things that would necessitate a rant. I mean, there’s enough in two square miles of where I sit to keep me ranting daily for the next two years.
4. Responding to comments is a distraction. I would say chore, but I like to chat, and it’s interesting to meet new people, explore their world, discuss things and learn more. But opening up the commentspace is the equivalent of walking into a party and rushing straight into all the huddles going hello hello hello, what’s happening, give me the goss instead of making a circuit of the place and listening in from the edges.
Comments cause conversations, conversations lead to new reading matter, new reading matter leads to less typing time, less typing time means fewer rants. You want rant no? You no get comment then.
5. Also, as mentioned before, comments can sometimes be sensible and helpful. And the last thing I want after a nice long rant is for somebody to pop up with a brilliant and succint comment that totally invalidates everything I’ve just said and makes it seem like a spoilt child’s bawling.
Not that there would be any such comment, of course – because, y’know, genius and all.
But the commenter would think it was, and then I’d have to explain just why it wasn’t, and then they’d get all huffy and I’d either have to spend time pacifying them (if I knew and cared about them) or ban them (if I didn’t). Either of which means distraction, and more distraction equals less ranting, and seriously, do you want the bawa to rant or not?!
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Ok, now I’m done ranting about comments.
… I think.
* I make up words. It’s how language came to be. Get with the programme.