In this crazy blogging world in which I am already far too deeply involved (I had to kill a man and then make a payment in hamsters....it's a long story....don't ask. Well don't you care about my life? "The don't ask" was simply meant to make you try and ask. Oh sure, now you want to know, but I think you just want to know because I called you out on it. Whatever. No. No. I'm not telling you now. Maybe later. Well don't act all pissy at me. This is stupid. The story wasn't even that good.) people come to expect a certain level every blog. Which I guess is sort of fair, but it also seems quite unfair. Baseball players have crappy games, artists do weird experimental stuff (possibly involving rooms of candy or fecal matter), and mayors seem to be constantly screwing up. So, if I am ever off my game, which I know has happened before, please just reread some of the archives and remember that I am the best writer you have ever read, (if you never read anything else) a sensational wit, and just one of those guys who makes your life better (although you might have done better than to heed my advice and not do laundry last month so you could still pay for the Internet and read my posts, I guess I could have just printed them out for you or something. My bad. And now you smell awful.)(by the way all these inane parentheticals are actually directed at no actual person. just my inner dialogue. but I really did do my laundry)
I also want to call out my friends. Friends, I, your friend, Timothy Charles Radway, am going to go down in history with such names as Hemingway, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, and Sedaris (mainly I am going to be associated with these names when I paint a cardboard sign with their names on it and start my daring life as a nude homeless man holding a cardboard sign with some authors names on it and darting across expressways). If you casually dismiss my blog as "something he does to keep himself happy" (which sounds like something you say about a "special" person). WRONG. I do it to share my supreme command of wit and verbal juggernautetry with the masses. I know, or at least have a general idea, of those friends who read my blog, as they will try and discuss it with me, tell me how much they enjoyed it, or hurl cedar chips at my face for insulting their families. So since I know who does read it, I also know who doesn't, and I also know that since they don't read this, the entire preceding paragraph has been pointless. God I am a fucktard sometimes. I probably should have thought of that first.
Too many people associate blogs with lame outpourings of emotion or like it is some Internet diary. Lameness. True I have used this forum a couple times for such a display, but that was when I was not as manly as I am now, which is pretty much the pinnacle of man. I even received a nomination for the Jack Palance/Clint Eastwood/Johnny Cash/Chuck Norris Hall of Fame. So, if people are going to keep using blogs for that kind of shit and therefore giving people the false notion that I am some emo dweeb who sits in the attic of my great aunt's house simultaneously weeping, listening to Saves the Day, and blogging, then I am going to try and eliminate all those kinds of people. In matter of craptastic stereoptypes, some douche wrote this:
"I cannot stress enough how lame blogs are. If you are so desperate for attention maybe you should turn off the computer and pick up the phone or go meet some people. Write it down in a journal for YOURSELF. Nobody cares what mood you are in at this moment. I'm sorry mommy and daddy obviously didn't love you enough or give you the attention you so sorely needed."
See, let me tear this apart. My Mom and Dad loved me very much. I do love attention, I do socially interact with many people and if I wrote this phenomenal garbage in a journal no one would laugh at it but me (which might be the case already, who knows). I am the most important person in my world, and maybe THE world (wow that was awesome to type....in fact, if you are having a bad day, type that about yourself). If you would like to be dumb and not enjoy a chuckle or perhaps even a hearty guffaw at either my expense or your expense, do it to it.
Enough of the tootage of my own horn. I am so deep and incredibly emo that I just blogged about blogs. But don't fear me. Embrace me. No, seriously, give me a hug.
1 comment:
It boggles my mind that people will troll blogs and tell others how pointless blogging is ... it's kind of like running into a candy shop and telling the loser customers that there's NO FUCKIN WAY this tastes better than an apple, and you assholes should just stop wasting your time with Butterfingers and Mary Janes and get some sweet-ass fruit, asshats.
In other words, Tim, your blog is like a candy store. That's really what I was getting at.
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