Ya know what

I just realised? So far this year I have posted once in January (the first month), twice in February (do you see the pattern yet?) and three times in March (March is when the little hand points at the three and the big hand points to the twelve). Isn’t that weird? Spooky, almost.

It’s as if the hand of some unseen omnipotent force has been guiding me to post in accordance with some form of sacred geometry. Which, to be honest, is something I always kind of expected would happen to me. Like that time I kept having dreams that Carol Channing was my birth mother and then it turned out she was. Except it wasn’t the Tony-award-winning Carol Channing but the one-I-grew-up-thinking-was-a-my-sister-like-Jack-Nicholson-did-Carol-Channing. (I wonder if this counts as a digression yet?) Anyhow... my points, and they are multiple, are these:

1. God has clearly taken a personal interest in my blog and may have even anointed it as the one true blog of god and it is with this divine mandate that I must continue to blog forth, spewing his celestially sanctioned word onto the World Wide Web like so much um, spew. (Ed’s note: I had a divine man date once. His name was Julio and he certainly did. Ding).

2. Now I’m gonna have to post four times this month which sucks because, as you may have very recently become aware, I don’t have a damn thing to say.

Oh, the agony of the prophet.

I really should have

saved this picture to use in my last post ever just to show you all that I was joking all along and that the joke was in fact on you, piteous fool, who has been slavishly reading this blog like the tragic hipster troglodyte that you are and not on me who has been writing this blog like the turgid erratic inebriate that I am.

I just felt like some colour.

Can anybody find me...

somebloggy to love?

Now, I’m no Bill Gates, I’m not even a Melinda Gates (what does she do exactly?) but after careful observation the following truth has become clear to me: There are a lot of blogs on the net (you read it here first kids).

Now this state of affairs is all well good and appears, on the surface, to be working well for all parties involved. People write blogs, people read blogs (you’re reading one right now, if you were wondering what you were doing) and, all in all, blogs do what they are supposed to do and the world is as it should be.

Now this would be all fine and dandy were it not for my next earth shattering observation which I will write after this colon: Most blogs suck.

Shocking, I know, but true none the less.

(I am well aware of the irony of making this pronouncement on a blog that does, in fact, itself suck so please don’t write in. You’ll only upset my manservant, the one who screens my mail, not the one who handles sunscreen and cocktails. The only thing that upsets him is Canadians. Don’t even ask)


Now, the suckiness of most blogs wouldn’t be a major concern either except, once again, for my last scientifically verified and patently obvious fact: I read blogs. Quite a bit. And it annoys me when they suck.

So, having thoroughly and vigorously posited the case for blog suckiness I propose that we all work together to find a solution. I envision it going something like this: (can’t get enough of these colons today. I wonder if I am using them correctly? No I don’t... not really.) You all write in (address correspondence care of Jake... Manservant? Is his surname really Manservant? That would be weird. Oh, just call him Jake the Snake. I do.) and tell me some blogs that are good to read and I will read them and (if they are very good to read (do you find all of these parentheses distracting? Are you distracted? Are you? Are you? Do you even remember what this sentence was about?)) I will not again subject you to a full length post such as this one replete with copious colons and profuse parentheses which I only wrote because I couldn’t find a decent blog to read. Deal? Deal.

Seeing as no one actually reads this blog I suspect the aforementioned deal will be somewhat of an exercise in futility ( by my count my fourth for today not including my attempt to make a sandwich using only the ingredients I had in my kitchen. That was really more of an homage to the theatre of the absurd then an exercise in futility. Though on second thought I might count that one because exercises in futility are about the only exercise I get these days and my menservants have begun to fret, dear things, about my health.

Toodles.

'Cause I'm mad as hell...

Get the fuck away from me you crazy fucking bitch.

There, I said it.

Is anybody else

really thirsty? I know I am.

Even I

don't read my blog. Do you think it's a symptom of my post-modernistic malaise? I really should have that checked. blohg. blahg blah blah blah.

FIRE ISAIAH!