Blogs have become cultural beacons, sculpting public opinion and the whole of the landscape. I have come to love the blogosphere. What’s not to love? Quick, easy, hilarious rants on current events, news, celebrity, anything and everything. It makes me laugh. It makes us all laugh. I’m a big fan, yet it drives me nuts when people put a greater emphasis on being funny rather than thoughtful. And the funnies are getting all of the credit.

Take Perez Hilton, self proclaimed Queen of all Media: his blog has made him rich and famous. There’s even a TV version of his “work” on VH1. He is a well-regarded, highly-quoted source regularly featured in other media. Why? Because he concocts funny word mashups and indiscriminately draws cocaine debris under the nostrils of celebrities, celebutants and celebutards? I laugh. But is it intelligent or thoughtful?

Not a whiff of either.

His counterparts are no exception. D-Listed, Pink is the New Blog, What Would Tyler Durden Do? –examples of cheap and hysterical hilarity, a lot of vulgarities and bathroom humor about stars and starlets…the writers are very funny, but do they have the chops to become real comedic writers with a day-to-day gig? Most of the humor is easy to come by (raunchy sex jokes that occur to the average 12-year-old boy); these bloggers are brave enough to boldly voice their inner tween. Where the rest of us would blush at the thought of quipping like that with even our closest and dearest, they in fact take the, yep you guessed it, plunger.

The newsiest is The Huffington Post, a digital version of Jon Stewart’s Daily Show. The content is there, the points are on and the contributing writers are some of the biggest uh names in the game (is it bad to shamefully plug myself in my own blog?), but it is not meant to serve as primary news source but more a way to buttress your information on an hourly basis. It says so up there in the fine print.

Wonkette.com, a famous offering about D.C. gossip, honestly describes itself as a, “blend of gossip, satire and things the author makes up.” Similarly, its parent, Gawker, is known for the same in a New York market. The problem is, people look to these sites as honest news sources instead of ha-ha jabs at anything plus everything.

And everyone is guilty these days. We’re all adapting blog speak (see Diablo Cody please) and abbreviated language that was once reserved for quickly jotting down messages via IM has made its way into the daily vernacular.

Remember Cingular’s enormously popular ad? The mom reprimands the daughter for texting too much. The daughter responds in text / IM code. It was only funny because we all got it. OMG people, WTF is going on?

Being tuned in does not make any of us educated while simple-minded and raunchy cynicism doe not make you a comedian and maintaining a blog does not make you a writer… In the end we are reading bloggers.

Oh yeah, and the most important point of today’s rant is this: Abbreviating words doesn’t make you original, just kind of annoying, except when it comes to me, obv. Duh.

Like, gee. Emily Gould’s much-maligned cover story in this week’s Times Sunday Magazine may not win the Gray Lady awards but it did garner what any self-respecting newspaper wants in the age of severely diverted eyeballs. Attention. Lots of attention. The article became a sensation and it—

Wait! What do you mean? No, trust me, it WAS a big deal. Hold on, I’ll prove it. Let’s just click over to the Times site..and ….

See, look. Most e-mailed stories of the past week. And that “Exposed” piece is right —-gee. No, it’s here somewhere. Has to be. Where is it?

Well holy smokes. Huh. I guess Times readers really didn’t think Emily Gould was such an important person. Instead they bit on the typical lineup of politics, faux trends, and self-help that pretends it isn’t. That’s what they e-mailed to their unenlightened, Post-reading family, at least.

But, wait, there’s “Exposed” – gosh, yay! I found it! Heading the week’s list of “Most Blogged” articles! See: it is relevant! Told you. A blogger’s bloggy confessional about blogging and its bloggy complications turned out to be catnip for other bloggers who like blogging about blogs! Let’s see here, who blogged about this bloggy article . . . why, Romenesko! And MediaBistro! Jezebel and Jossip! And the granddaddy of ‘em all: Gawker! Which used to employ Gould! Just like MediaBistro does now! And so on. And so forth.

Let me take a look at that Gawker post . . . that’s–eleven thousand views! Wow, like, um, not very many. A lot for Gawker, I am sure. But compare that number to the number who read, for instance, whatever watered-down nonsense was on the cover of the Parade Sunday insert this week.

Hint: it’s not even close. Like, at all.

So what does that say, kids? Maybe that the same few thousand people who read the same incestuous pack of media blogs were inordinately interested in La Gould, even while deriding her piece, and, more tellingly, even as most of The New York Times readership shrugged and went on with the crossword. And these are Times readers! The elite of elites, who love nothing more than to gaze at New York-y media-y fluff with hearts a-flutter. And they kinda didn’t care. Even with “come hither” cover photography and the author’s appetite-whetting persona: equal parts narcissist and train wreck.

The blogosphere is vibrant and vital, despite what the many detractors say out loud. That said, when it is its own subject one notices just how insular a community it is. Emily Gould is a very big name to only very few. And those people debated her article back and forth. And knew about it days before the Times published. And felt impugned and delighted and irritated and important because it was about them as much as it was about Emily. And then . . . what? It exploded like a neutron bomb in its little corner of our culture and, thanks to the electronic version going up early, was yesterday’s news three days before yesterday.

(Literally.)

This was the year “Gossip Girl” caught fire in New York and among its chattering bloggy/media classes. To read about the show in this sleep-filled city is to think you’ve witnessed the birth of a kind of phenomenon. Except that the two thousand people whispering breathlessly about each episode on blogs are also the only two thousand people watching it on their hi-defs. The show gets absolutely no ratings (it’s “OMFG, not that great,” said EW this week). And yep, no one in Topeka gives a dink. This isn’t “Seinfeld” or “Sex City” or some other quote unquote New York show that appeals to our coastal vanity while generating a huge audience. It’s not even “Mad Men,” for Chrissakes. It’s big-B Buzz doing little-b business. The lesson (this is a blog, so a lesson is forthcoming) is not so different from the Sunday magazine’s. Self absorption, no matter the medium, is only as magnetic as self.

I feel like I have not quite made my point. Wait…for…it…

Damn it, Emily! You loser.

[Check out “2011” now on Amazon via www.yeahwhatever.com. Like for sure…]