Pox Populi

Posting here has been somewhat lax as of late, but I’ve been sick. Also, I’m not getting paid for this shit.1

Which reminds me, I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with new a revenue model, and while there are many tempting tried and true methods for using the internet to make money,


(via riot clit shave)

I have decided to go a more traditional route:


sponsorship.

I know the choice is a bit unconventional, but I remain convinced that this will prove a long and mutually beneficial relationship.

Humans, I’ve been doing this in earnest2 for half a year now. I think it’s time we got fucking serious. So I made a few changes around here.

First, some background.

A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.

- Thomas Mann

If this is the only criteria, then I no longer have any qualms about referring to myself as a writer.

This may come as an unwelcome shock to a few of you, certainly not the fine folks at Kimberly-Clark, but I consider some of what I do here writing “jokes”. The funny thing about “joke writing” though: the more you do it, the more your standards for what qualifies as a joke start to loosen. This is as much as a matter of practicality as it is of perception.

The problem being that it is almost impossible for me to objectively gauge anything I put up here. If I say it, of course I think it’s genius. Otherwise I wouldn’t say it.

How can you tell what shines brightest in a room filled with lusters?

In order to better serve you, my indifferent public, since none of you can be bothered to leave comments, what with that raging case of syphilis going around the internet, I figured I’d make it easier and just ask you outright.

{democracy:2}

I’ve also replaced a static, somewhat confusing popularity ranking for posts with an interactive voting system. I don’t expect anyone to go back through the archives, but if you just quickly scanned whatever’s on the front page, or if there’s a post you had particularly strong feelings for, of malice or otherwise, I’d appreciate a rating. It requires less thought that actually leaving a comment, since we all know how much it’s in short supply these days.

And I finally got around to finishing the about page only six months late. I do it for you guys. I do it all for you.

Back to all business as all usual.

  1. Oh and no one reads this. []
  2. Not to mention Verne. I bet some Huggies would come in handy right about now. []

Crunch Time (a.k.a. Time For Some Crunchy Stellas)

Alright, it’s not too late. I’ve got a little over two hours to write 50,000 words. It’s gonna be tight, but if I hunker down and focus I think I can pull it out.

Although I did just finish reading seven years of Achewood so I think it’s mainly going to be about manic depressive cats and coked up squirrels and five year old otters and their crazy, mixed-up adventures.

I really was dangerously close to attempting to consider doing this thirty days ago, but the month of November kind of crept up on me. Can you imagine though? If I actually went and wrote a novel. Everyone coming up to me all “man, why’d you have to go and do a thing.”