How Do I Loathe Thee, Let Me Count the Ways

I find it absurdly ironic that I, at once, detest most of the writing I have been seeing as of late from others, but absolutely love, love, love to read. Let me qualify this: I've been reading a number of blogs, witticisms and posts, and find the majority of them vapid; only feigning at truly being clever. With biting one-liners and provocative allusury, these ever-increasing writers (and I wholly recognize my inclusion amongst them) comment on everything from Parisian fashion to Paris Hilton. Fashion writers, travel bloggers, relationship experts, sports fanatics...The litany of nouveau authors is seemingly endless, and with the advent or evolution (or really, de-evolution) of modern writing and texting vocabulary, everyone thinks they have a voice worth hearing...and therein lies the caveate...WORTH...HEARING. I know that writing is re-writing and this vocation is a craft, but I sincerely hope that either the standard of writing or those who chose to write get a kick in the (talent) pants sometime soon...p.s. I'm not holding my breath.