Like the film-maker, I too grew up on a small, disconnected island, so discovering this newfangled thing called the internet and the possibilities it offered was perhaps one of the most mind-blowing discoveries ever during puberty (learning how to cook fish fingers and learning how to unclasp bras thanks to repeated viewings of Revenge of the Nerds were more monumental discoveries of course).

Anyway – I agree with the documentary that in the same way it is acceptable for academic papers to be replete with quotes and citations from other papers, journals or books I feel the same should apply for other forms of information, notably audiovisual work. Remixing is part of the culture I grew up with – from vulgar football singalongs poking fun at the other team (set to the tune of well-known pop songs), to the widespread availability of bootlegs and unauthorised remixes on Malta’s open air markets (or at least they were when I was younger). Invalidating this part of the culture I grew up with would seem very odd to me, to put it mildly.

Major labels weren’t too quick at ‘discovering’ the internet – their business model was generally quite simple: find an artist, ‘groom’ them, release their work on CD, reap profits, repeat. When digital music came about they should have been sharp enough to notice that this would be an ideal opportunity for them to minimise their costs and maximise their profits. Instead, they launched into a somewhat misguided attempt to suppress it. It obviously didn’t work and the technology to download or manipulate music or film is so widely available at this point that it is futile to try to change the course of things.

What of our music then? ‘Netlabels‘ are an interesting development. Online-only labels which are, for the most part, run out of love for the music by the label owners allowing the artists to get paid, or not, depending on their Creative Commons licence. Unsurprisingly, they spent their infancy as the Esperanto of the music world: a fantastic idea but one which isn’t really taken seriously. But things are starting to change – many music magazines are featuring netlabel music as well as music released directly by artists and ‘online-only’ music shops like Juno, Beatport and others are sprouting like mushrooms. The roll call of artists who ’made it’ without having a record deal or who eschewed traditional means of distribution and promotion is constantly increasing.

So what changed? Simply put – quality control. If the stuff being offered is as good as a regular label (and is free to boot) why shouldn’t it be taken seriously? Electronic music, for example, doesn’t require much in the way of investment to make: a PC or a Mac, some good software and lots of cables (except the ones you need when you need them, of course).

As the co-inventor of the internet, Tim Berners-Lee, said in an interview with the European Parliament, the future of the internet lies increasingly in sorting out the wheat from the chaff.

The internet already provides choice – lots of it, too – but the internet is finally coming of age. We need people, whose taste or judgement we trust and feel is close to ours, to take the time to trawl the internet to find the hidden diamonds. Some might bemoan the fact that this ‘undemocratises’ the web. This is debatable, but it might well be true… but, really, it’s either that or browse for hours on end trying to remember old links, mouth agape – like Lieutenant Columbo trying to remember what he had for lunch last Tuesday.

The music will not be any less creative but money will come less from physical items (CDs, etc) and increasingly from ‘services’ (concerts, live appearances, etc). As far as the quality of the music is concerned, I feel that the bar is even higher now… even if the music is given out for free. The technology to make music is cheaper than ever before but the competition is just as tough (perhaps even tougher).

The difference now is that, perhaps, only the best artists - the most inventive, the most persistent and the most tenacious – will survive… and I guess that’s the way it ought to be.

A visit to the opticians was duly scheduled… kind of. My family is typically Mediterranean and was not exactly what you’d call well-to-do, so an opticians wasn’t actually an opticians. As a young man my father had held a job as a postman for all of three months, but every single contact in life for whatever we needed – from school books to the many replacement parts for our very cantankerous Skoda Rapid (which was anything but) – was carefully combed through this minutely researched network of contacts.

Homer Simpson. Wearing glasses. Enough said...

Several ghastly and not-so-ghastly glasses down the line, I’ve got used to being a four-eyes and I’ve noticed the way I’m treated is different when I’m not wearing them (fret not – I’ll be wearing contact lenses).

But my mission here today is another one. I’ve got a secret to reveal to you two-eyes. Our biggest secret. I’m sorry my bespectacled brethren, but I’ve got to tell them.

Here it goes – we’re not clever or wise, just partially blind. There. I said it.

Yes, I know that every single Hollywood film has portrayed us as ubergenuises, evil scientists, bookish nerdy types who snort when they laugh or guys in white lab coats armed with clipboards taking meticulous notes on the blinking lights of some dastardly machine in some evil madman’s lair.

But we’re not. We don’t know what the square root of 267 is, where Bikya is spoken or what the capital of Tuvalu is. Really. We don’t. It’s futile signing us up as contestants on one of these genius-remembers-and-recites-a-telephone-directory-by-heart-style shows. We can barely remember our own home number… and the reasons why restarting a misbehaving computer should magically fix most issues remains a mystery to us too.

The terrible truth is our poor vision is more the result of wonky eyesight genes than superhuman intelligence.

I promise we’re as dumb as you are… only we can’t even read the questions.