Gonna buy five copies for my mother 

I almost always agree with Jeff Jarvis, but not this time, on the Time magazine Person of the Year cover. It's nothing new to bloggers, that's true. I think the significance of it is that Time feels that the notion of the user in charge deserves recognition in the general culture.

I think it's easy to forget how insulated we are from the wider world of people who may use the internet -- most everybody does anymore -- but who are not obsessed by it, or who don't spend hours and hours online when they don't have to. Most of the world thinks of the net as a place to get something, usually a piece of information, while the wired think of it as a place to be -- something they are a part of, a real subculture.

Something happened on Friday that reminded me I'm more insulated than I thought. I'd never thought of the SNL Blue Oyster Cult "More Cowbwell" sketch as particularly an internet thing, but something that pretty much everybody just know about. But now I think it is partly a part of the subculture.

I brought it up at lunch and was shocked to learn that the majority of my co-workers had never heard of the sketch. Most are younger than me, which is an argument against the internet being a young person's thing. If you feel like it, ask around (if you know anybody who doesn't go online unless they have to!) and see if cowbell is mostly an internet meme. What else would be like that, kind of insider jokes that cement a subculture?

I made you. No, I made you. 

Zennie Abraham summarizes a new chapter in the public Rocketboom slapfest as it's been playing out on a Yahoo list.

Then there's this recent diatribe in the comments on Amanda's blog. It's all so emotional on both sides that it's a little embarrassing to watch. I've seen this before in online discourse, and I think it's fascinating. I'm imagining that both of them know intellectually it's not cool to hiss at each other like this in public, and they promise themselves they'll stop. Then that last-word thing kicks in and sitting on their hands becomes impossible. I'm guessing it comes from the reptile brain and -- at the moment of replying -- feels like essential defense of their lives.

Later, the brain stem hands off control to the cortex and rationalizing sets in, but isn't it interesting that the crux of it is still defense, with a pinch of righteousness. It's as though they look around in wonder that their listeners found anything amiss in their conduct, and pretend that voices were never raised. "I'm perfectly justified. Hey, all I'm doing is defending myself."

Make no mistake; they have both lost control of themselves. Amanda paints the image of the wild-eyed Andrew in opposition to her cool head, but she can't seem to make herself stop replying either.

One of these days there will be a prescription drug you can take that doesn't make all generalized cares go away, but specifically curbs these kinds of human urges. You'll elect to take it at times when you're lucid enough to know that at some future date you'll look back and be glad you decided to govern yourself. I could have used it a time or two myself.