Phantom Blog Readers

I know I’m still way too wrapped up in how many people read my posts and in how few of them actually “like” them.  A true artist creates what he or she creates without regard to whether or not anyone will ever see it, much less like it.  I’m not trying to imply that one should make the quantum leap of judgement to put me in the company of artists or even wordsmiths, I’m just saying I shouldn’t care…but I do, and I hate myself for it.

True to form, I spend way too much time checking my stats.  Looking to see how many people read me, and which of my posts are getting the most hits.  For the life of me, I don’t understand the success of Life Lessons From Gilligan’s Island, but there’s no accounting for taste.

There is an issue which I’ve recently discovered.  One which has thought-gremlins prancing around feverishly in my head.  WordPress has a map feature and it tells the writer how many readers he has on a given day all over the world.  I’m embarrassed to admit that were it not for the coloring-in of the countries, I’d be hard-pressed to figure out where in the world some of them are actually located.  As it happens, my posts were pretty big in Macedonia for a while.  I had no idea where it was, but I’ve always been a big fans of their nuts.

In any case, the country demographic piece has a hole in it.  When adding up the hits in the various countries, the totals are not always the same as the overall number of hits, sometimes substantially less.  The stat number says I’ve had 47 hits, but the country demographics only add up to 34.   I can’t help but wonder where the other 13 hits are coming from, if not from the countries of the world.  Possible explanations of where those phantom readers are located follow:

I’m not sure this is actually a ship. It’s more like a floating hotel/theme park/mall. I was on one of these once. Another blog perhaps (Image from photo-dictionary.com)

Ships at Sea – I know it sounds so 1940’s.  I’m confident that even today, there are in fact ships at sea, though it’s hard to imagine that anyone on them is finding the time to read my blog, since there’s a rock climbing competition on the Lido deck, scrap-booking classes in the Slave Galleria, and a 24 hour chocolate fountain in the Spanish Doubloon Ballroom.

In orbit – Do astronauts have access to the world wide web thingy when they’re not in this world?  Is there even a space station out there?  Are there people on it?   I’ve lost track.

Look at those creepy little guys! Tell me the one on the far left doesn’t look like Grampa Al Lewis! (Image from gammillustrations.com)

Mole Men Living Beneath The Earth – I’m old enough to have been more than a little disturbed by that ancient Superman rerun.  As long as we’re on the topic of childhood demons, I have to account for the possibility that the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz may be reading my blog, though they didn’t strike me as particularly bookish.

China – I bet it’s China; they probably have some dark reason for not wanting us to know they’re reading me.  Or maybe North Korea where reading my blog is punishable by public ridicule (instead of suffering privately like the rest of you folks)

I couldn’t find a picture of a poltergeist – apparently they’re not too photogenic…anyway…look at the eyes on this zombie! and that suit!! He’s dreamy! (Image from zombiecombatcommand.com)

Zombies and Poltergeists – Reading me from beyond the grave – I think it’s poltergeists – zombies would show up on the world map, as they lurch through the countryside looking for brains to eat.  Lord knows, if they’re reading some of the stuff I write, they could use all the brains they can cram into their gaping maws.

People On Commercial Jets – Using electrical devices when they’ve been told not to.  So eager to read my blog posts that they, along with Alec Baldwin, put others at risk and take the chance of pissing off the stewardess.  I know some folks find me amusing, but is it worth risking honey-roasted peanuts and half a can of soda?

Holy crap! A strange being from a far off galaxy – who knows how intelligent he may or may not be! I wonder what he thinks of the space alien. (Image from astro.wsu.edu)

Space Aliens – Even though I’ve admitted to having never seen a Star Wars, Star Trek or Star 80 movie, I have to admit that it’s possible.  I hope they like my humor, but not enough to abduct and probe me.

Garage Sale Table of Treasures

I recall many years ago, saddled with small children and the very limited social life which came with them, I worked in an office.  Somehow, there came a Saturday night when no one was to be at my home but me.  I couldn’t squander such a rare opportunity.  I went from cubicle to cubicle in the weeks before recruiting my colleagues for a night of drinking, raucous humor and poker – a festival of male bonding in a time in my life when such things were as rare as hens’ teeth.

The weekend finally came.  I was psyched (old-school guy talk – “psyched” is how guys felt about going to cool bars, buying hot rods or finding $50 in the pocket of an old sport coat – not that I’ve ever done two out of three of those things).  I straightened up the house, set up the dining room table, bought some beer, and even found a deck of playing cards without pictures of Old Maids on them.  After what seemed like an eternity, the doorbell finally rang.  It was one of my buddies from work.  I welcomed him in, got him a frosty malt beverage, and we sat down amid the bowls of chips and made small talk as we waited for the others to show up.  After more than another hour had passed, it began to be clear that no one else was coming.  My lone party participant made his graceful exit and I sat there, shuffling the cards and simmering.  After a while, I poured the corn chips back into their bags and put them away.  The kids would be home the next day and would certainly enjoy eating them.  I rearranged the furniture and put the house back into wife-and-kids mode, dumped out the last of my beer, and went to bed.

I swore that I would return to work on Monday and give those no-shows the cold shoulder they deserved.  I considered not bothering to speak with any of them about anything except work-related topics until the end of time.

Last week, I got this idea to hold a blog garage sale.  I offered to put five of my dead-draft ideas out on a virtual table for people to browse and take if they felt like it.  While baring my soul is a fairly frequent occurance on these pages, it still seemed kind of risky to show people what my bad ideas looked like.  Hell, even some of my good ideas look like crap to me.  I decided to make it more of a neighborhood garage sale, inviting any and all of my blogging colleagues to join in.  Misery loves company, so I thought that having a few others along with their dreg post ideas would soften the blow and minimize the embarrassment factor.

I know it doesn’t look like much, but some other bloggers are ‘sposed to be showing up soon. I’m sure they’ll bring lots of stuff. We’ll probably need more tables (Image by list-alert.com)

Today, true to my word, I’m going ahead and posting the 5 dud ideas.  Much like my poker night of decades ago, I’m alone with my beer, Tostitos and playing cards.

I’m a relative newcomer to blogging, having only been at it for 6 months, so I guess I still have a lot to learn, particularly in regards to the audience participation angle.

Here are my five duds, in no particular order:

• Complaints Department – I envisioned this being from the viewpoint of a bored, underpaid clerk at a complaints desk.  The twist was that people came up and complained about all sorts of things which there was no real answers for, like traffic, the way we end up  looking more and more like our parents, and how there isn’t anyone on the Notre Dame Fighting Irish football team who appears to be even remotely Irish.
• Purgatory – What’s not funny about purgatory, right kids?  The purgatory I had in mind was the one where you’ve posted something which you labored over, but have yet to get any feedback whatosever on, except from that one oddball, who always hits “Like” faster than he or she could have possibly read the piece.
• But Honey, These People LOVE Me! – This piece was going to be a cynical take on explaining to my wife why I spend more time trying to entertain hundreds dozens of adoring readers than I do giving her foot massages, or policing the yard for dog dootie.
• Reflections on Mediocrity – Thought of this one after doing an admittedly mediocre job on a lecture.  While I’m surrounded by mediocrity and take great pains to point out the shortcomings in the efforts of others, looking at my own mediocrity proved to be both painful and of no interest to me (or presumably others).  Like many things we put on the table at these blog-garage sales, I’m embarrassed to take ownership at all.  It’s free, just take it and don’t tell anyone where you got it, okay?
• Miscellany – I know, you’ve probably already got one of these right?  This is the “junk drawer” of the draft files, containing all sorts of odds and ends, dead calculators, paper clips, faded receipts, and in the case of my file, thoughts on a trip to the urologist, experiments with hitting the “formatting” button, and a reminder that a haiku is 5-7-5 (it is, isn’t it?).  This one is the biggest gamble of the whole table, but at least you’ll come away with a few paperclips and some emery boards.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll revert to the original version of audience participation, where I write and you, hopefully, read.  Then you write and I’ll read.

Blog-Garage Sale – A Call For Duds!

Look at all this great stuff! I wonder if I can get the smell of Indian food out of this cool crock pot. (Image from jobsallover.com)

I think most bloggers will tell you, we have lots of junk stored in our mental garages, or as WordPress likes to call them our “Draft Files”.

I’ll have a momentary spark of inspiration about a potential topic, scribble down a sentence or two, give it a title, then hit “Save Draft”.  Sometimes it’s the title itself, sometimes it’s the idea, but something in there merits my hitting the save button.  Subsequent revisits to the draft do not shed much light on why I ever thought that dog of a topic ever had any value.  So it sits in the draft file collecting dust like a singing big-mouth bass mounted on a plaque.

It’s time for a blog-garage sale.  Next Saturday morning, 7/14 around 8:00 AM Eastern time, I’ll put five of my drafts out on tables in the driveway known as my blog, in hopes that  someone will take these clunkers.  Shoppers will be able to get them for a fraction of what I paid (which was nothing), and save me the trouble of tripping over that pile of ideas on the floor by the back door.

The drafts, just like their snooty over-achiever cousins, the finished posts, are bargain priced at zero dollars.  Still, in my garage-sale state of mind, I just can’t bring myself to just throw the drafts in the trash.  If I can’t find someone to take these off my hands, I’m just going to have to throw these things out, along with this broken beach umbrella and that crappy old bureau that my grandmother said was an “original Chippendale” – Come on Nanny, I’m pretty sure didn’t have male strippers back in the olden days.

Everyone knows that the more people’s junk treasures there are at one of these sales, the more carloads of strange people will show up and browse.  Therefore, I encourage my fellow bloggers to bring out your duds.  Pick out a few lame ideas from your own drafts file and add them to the shady driveway also known as the comments section of this post, or email them to me at dlovett54@gmail.com.  I’ll post them all in next Saturday’s Blog Garage Sale post.  Once they’re on the comments section or in the post, they’re fair game for anyone who’d like them.  If you email them, I’ll be able to post them without attaching your name if you’re that embarrassed by them.  Think fondly of me as you hit the delete button beneath the draft, ridding yourself of those once sparkling ideas which are just depressing to look at now.

As for you non-blog writers, enjoy this creepy glimpse into the raw creative process of your writing heroes.  Be warned though – Seeing these turds before they’ve been honed and polished will undoubtedly take some of the magic away from your reading experiences in the future – kind of like seeing Johnnie Depp without his elevator shoes and make-up.

The first rule of thumb at blog-garage sales is not to wonder whether someone has some sort of mental disorder -“idea hoarding syndrome” or “bad taste” are two of the maladies which often spring to mind.  Just glance at the junk on the tables, and if nothing suits you, nod and smile then move along.  Be sure to check back later, I’m hoping more people show up and bring their garbage treasured ideas.

One last request.  In the event that you trash-pick one of the draft ideas from here and later write a post with it, let me know about it.  I’ll try to let folks know via my blog.  Who knows, you might end up with a Pulitzer, or at the very least, maybe snagging a few more readers.

Silence Everyone, I’m Writing My Book!

“I’m writing my book“

I can’t think of a more wildly pretentious thing to say.   For extra snooty points, I should always refer to it as a novel.   Either way, it’s certainly way more hoity-toidy than saying “I’m working on my blog post about Gilligan’s Island”

Hey numbskull, I’m thinkin’ here! Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk (Image from 1Up.com)

That being said, I’ve been working on a novel for several years.  For the record, my “work” on it has been sporadic at best.  It’s not unlike someone buying oil paints and a canvas and proclaiming that they’re “working on a painting”.  The canvas is all set up on the easel, the tubes of paint are laid out next to the palette, the brushes are ready and willing.  Six months later, the entire tableau sits there inert and is covered with a thin coating of dust, the canvas still about as blank as Sarah Palin’s resume.

Last week, I went to the beach for my annual 7 days of vacation.  I told myself that since it was a vacation, I would not be writing my blog.  I was going to spare my family the sight of me hunched over the laptop all day and night typing some annoyingly self-absorbed blather and then forcing them all to read it.  Besides, it’s nearly impossible to work on my skin cancer and type at the same time, I’d end up with white frown-wrinkles running across my rather expansive forehead like elevation lines on a topographical map of Mars.

I opted for a more noble pursuit during vacation, I’d work on writing my book – I’m sorry, my novel.

I typically start my vacation days up by 5 A.M., standing knee-deep in the Atlantic watching the sun come up while not catching fish.  This year, I managed to forget my fishing equipment entirely in the frenzy to pack everything else we own into the car.  Not to worry, I’d still get up at 5, but spend my quiet morning hours writing instead.  I pictured myself out on the deck, the cool morning breeze swirling the steam from my nearby cup of coffee as I wrote chapter after chapter.  When the rest of the family eventually stumbled out of bed, I’d click “save”, shut down the laptop and start cooking breakfast, changing diapers and putting sunblock on them – the family members, not the diapers.

Sounds positively romantic doesn’t it?

My first morning on the deck proved to be less than successful.  It turns out when you’re situated two blocks from the ocean to the east and two blocks from the bay on the west, there’s lot’s of condensation on the furniture at dawn’s early light.  I went back inside on tip toes and found towels for the chair and table.  I sat myself down and flipped open the laptop.  Sadly, there was enough early light in the sky by then that I got lots of glare on the screen, and more than a few bugs.  If you want to see a “no-see-um” just have them land all over your computer screen.

I shifted to Plan B – moving my coffee, laptop and funky-bad-self into the living room.  I got cozy in a large armchair, propped my feet up on the ottoman, took a sip of coffee, and opened the file.

I knew better than to think that I’d just start writing, so I busied myself reading what I had so far.  Before long, I had found some redundancies and inconsistencies.  I reworked a few awkward sentences, moved some things around.  As for putting new words on the screen, I didn’t get to that before the rest of the family started getting up and requiring my attention.

The days ticked by as I tried unsuccessfully to get some actual writing done.  I had switched from the upholstered chair to the dining room chair with the computer on the table top.

Finally, after four days of trying, I was able to write a little bit.  Not multiple chapters, but some pages.

I realized what actual writers already know; writing is work.  It’s not supposed to be relaxing or something you do because you have some free time.  It’s not necessarily easy to do.  The end result will hopefully appear fluid and engaging – the effortless telling of a story – but there’s sweat behind it.

Unlike many pursuits, like boatbuilding or biomedical research, writing a book is something that anyone can say they’re doing.  Go steal yourself a legal pad from work, or open a new Word file.  Name it “book project”, hit save, and you’re a self proclaimed author.  On some level, that’s exactly who I am.  More correctly, that’s who I was.  I am vowing right here before my massive population of blog readers  – all 16 of you –  to not tell anyone that I am writing a novel, until I have actually written at least 3/4’s of one.

I’m going to hit “publish” now and rid myself of this post so that I can focus on my novel.

When I’m done with my novel, I’m considering taking a break from writing to try my hand at boat building or working in oils.

Delete is such a strong word

I have to admit that, for the most part, I enjoy WordPress.

Blogging has given me a forum for my thoughts and has fueled my delusions of someday actually making money writing.  One of the cool things about it has been the ability to leave comments on the posts of writers whose work makes mine look pathetic, and then being tickled when they actually respond.

“Dear Mr. Hamill, I think you write real good, and you’re books r kewl. I know your busy being famous and righting another best seller. I just wanted to say Hi”
(Photo from nyu.edu)

I’ve never actually sat down and written fan mail to David Sedaris, Pete Hamill, or any of the other authors whose work I’ve enjoyed.  Maybe they would have written me back, but I tend to think they’d be too busy living in mansions and working on their next incredible book.

Anyway, back to WordPress.  They’ve recently upgraded their website and making comments now has strings attached.  I would always get an email telling me if an author had replied to one of my comments.  I also received notification anytime anyone commented on one of my posts, which I loved.  The other day, after the latest alterations to the site, that all changed.  Now, if I have commented on someone’s post, I started getting emails anytime anyone commented on that post.

This may seem like a minor change in how the site works, but consider this; some of the people whose work I admire can easily get 60 or 70 comments to a post.  If I read the posts early in their published state, and write a witty comment, my email box will blow up with the torrent of comments from other readers still to come.  If I commented on 4 or 5 author’s pieces, my incoming email grows exponentially by the end of the day.  Between those comment emails, ads for low cost E.D. pills, and great new recipe ideas for family-fun dinners from the Food Network, I barely have time to sift through my emails for electronic coupons from the Liquor and Wine SuperStore.

I decided to click the box on the bottom of the email to manage my subscriptions.  It was a simple process;  to avoid having my email box over-flow with other people’s comments about my favorite authors, I just needed to hit the “delete” icon below the author’s name.  “Delete”?!!  These are writers who I have “followed”.  I’ve “liked” their work on numerous occasions.  Would hitting “delete” be anything less than an obvious betrayal of my loyalty?  These hard-working, creative geniuses had earned my love and admiration.  Was I expected to delete them just because of my whiney complaints of having a full email box?

You don’t really mean that, do you?

Well…yeah.

I mean it’s really inconvenient to check my not-so-smart phone all day for emails, only to find that OkeydokeyDonkey220 has written a typo-riddled comment about The Byronic Man’s latest masterpiece.  I gritted my teeth and hit the dreaded delete button.  Almost immediately, the incessant chirping of my phone slowed to the pace of a poorly made metronome.  I closed my email then raced back to WordPress.  I wanted to hurry and refollow Byronic before he discovered what I’d done.  I was already cooking up lame excuses in my head to explain to him how I had accidentally hit the button in a tequila-addled state.  Perhaps I’d go with having my dog excitedly jump onto my lap upon hearing my laughter and hitting the key with her paw (Byronic doesn’t have know the cold truth about my dog’s disability).  Maybe I would blame it on the DEA, and tie it in with Byronic’s recent funny post – no Dave – don’t try to ride the coat-tails of someone else’s creativity – you’re (slightly) better than that.

I got to WordPress and clicked on Blogs I Follow.  There he was, still high on my list.  I didn’t understand, I’d hit delete.  My computer dictionary says that “delete” and “unfollow” are two different things, but my inner voice tells me otherwise.  I hit refresh a couple of times just to be sure.  The Byronic Man was still there, right where I’d left him.

Apparently, the people who run WordPress, a blogging site for literary wannabees with varying levels of talent, chose to use the word “delete” when perhaps a different word may have been more apropos. Was it too much to expect that the people at a website dedicated to the expression of the written word could have chosen a more suitable phrase or single word for us to click to keep from getting emails?  They could have chosen any number of alternates.  Some of the candidates which come to mind are:

“terminate”

“You deserve better than me”

“fuggetta-bow”

“neglect”

“We’ve grown apart”

“screw”

or my personal favorite,

“discontinue receiving comments on this post via email”

Obviously, WordPress has the same problem as almost every other business in the world.  They have idea guys, worker bees, and somewhere, in a room with a special key and way cooler office chairs than everyone else, they have the I.T. department: those tech savvy guys and gals with the names you may or may not have trouble pronouncing.  Like most I.T. departments, they feel the need to run massive, complicated upgrades to the site every so often.  The sleek new look of the site and “increased fluidity of the browser-main frame interface” will accomplish two significant things:

1)  It will frustrate the daily users of the site, who’ve become accustomed to finding their way around without being stranded or hopelessly lost

2)  It will give the I.T. staff plenty to do developing the next site upgrade/facelift

Luckily, bloggers like me can feel free to write any kind of criticism we care to about the I.T. types as they don’t generally bother spending much time on the actual content of the site, preferring to stand behind the curtain of the Great and Imperial Oz.  These tech-heads just wreck it for the rest of us, making life difficult while creating work for themselves to feed off the corporate teat a little longer.  I’m not afraid of some I.T. dopes.  What are they going to do to me?

In any case, I’m glad that when they said delete, they didn’t really mean it.

“What is a lamp, you nincompoop? It’s a major award. I won it!”

Mr. Parker: It's a Major Award!
Swede: Shucks, I wouldn't know that. It looks like a lamp.
Mr. Parker: What is a lamp, you nincompoop? It's a Major Award. I won it!
Swede: Damn, hell, you say won it?
Mr. Parker: Yeah, mind power, Swede; mind power.
(Image and dialogue from Jean Shepherd's "A Christmas Story" - MGM)

I was recently named as a winner of the Versatile Blogger Award.

I was nominated by the presumably lovely and unquestionably talented Emma of In Other Words .  Thanks Emma – I’m not worthy of your praise.  While I appreciate the award, it’s made writing even more challenging than it already was.  It’s always been a bit daunting to hit the “Publish” button on a piece.  With my award, I now have to ask myself,

“Is this worthy of a Versatile Blogger Award recipient?

“Is it too trite?”

“Is it versatile enough?”

“Will posting this give Emma reason to doubt her judgement?”

Clearly the bar has been raised, and now I’ll need to consider my stellar reputation as a wit (or half-wit) before I post just any old thing.

I read how after winning the Academy Award for “Hamlet”, Sir Lawrence Olivier had the good judgement to turn down the title role in “The Incredible Mr. Limpet” – leaving the door open for Don Knotts to star as the man-turned-fish.  That’s the kind of foresight I’ll be needing from here on out.  I don’t want to be the Don Knotts of blogging – there are too many of those already.

To add further doubt to my already shaky self-image, I’ll be damned if I can figure out how to post a link to Emma’s site in here.  Fortunately, I stumbled onto a video tutorial on the VBA page, and after watching it an embarrassing number of times, I was able to negotiate myself through the process.

Now the other award shoe drops.

As if it wasn’t difficult enough writing with this massive new weight upon my shoulders, the award stipulates that I, in turn, award the VBA to no less than fifteen of my favorite bloggers.  Fifteen?!!  That means I’m going to leave someone out and undoubtedly hurt their feelings.  In addition, I’ll be saddling fifteen other bloggers to this same horrific batch of challenges and angst.  What fun!

The positive aspect of this is that all fifteen of my nominees write way better than I do, so they should skip through this effortlessly.  In the event that as a recipient of this noble chain letter award you choose not to follow through with your sworn duties, don’t be hating on the nominator.  It’s not my fault you write well and entertain me – that’s on you.

Here then, in no particular order, is my list of fifteen wicked-good blog writers.  I apologize in advance to both those who I nominated and to those I did not.  If you are one of the award winners, try clicking on a link besides your own, ferchrissakes!

The Good Greatsby

The Byronic Man

japecake

Prawn and Quartered

Paltry Meanderings of a Taller Than Average Woman

publikworks

Notes from a She-Hermit

blogdramedy

TEStazyk

Shut Up Dad

freddyflow

White Elephant In The Room

Perverted Wisdom

She’s a Maineiac

Peg-o-Leg’s Ramblings

I know that some if not all of my nominees are wildly successful bloggers who can’t be bothered with this nonsense, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put some hack on my list and risk guilt by association.  Many of these blogging superstars have the good taste not to follow yours truly, so I have no idea when or if they will even hear about this.

The final requirement for winners is to tell seven previously undisclosed things about themselves to their loyal readers (This is a lot like work).   I’m not exactly a private person, but I’ve decided to just make some of this stuff up rather than risk boring people with nothing but facts.  In a wacky twist, you’ll have to decide for yourselves which of my following are facts and which are fabrications.

1)  Born in Vienna, Austria

2) I’m a physical therapist who works with special needs children

3) I have an admitted fondness for dessert wines

4) My middle child is a jet-setting professional poker player

5) My younger brother once met Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. – and I resent him for it (My brother, not Kurt)

6) I see my mother on TV sometimes

7) My basement is filled with survival gear and back issues of Guns and Ammo magazine

My god, I feel so exposed !  For those of you who don’t know me personally, I’d love to hear which of the 7 attributes you think are true.  For those of you who know me in the “real” world, don’t be tools and spoil it for everyone else.

The Waiting Game

You know what they say that about good intentions.

This morning I posted my satirical, goofy piece titled “Castro Gives Me Gastro”.  I’ll admit it wasn’t my very best work, but it had some merits.  Most specifically, it was under 500 words, and that’s short for a windbag like me.

Normally when I post something, I check the various categories to make sure it showed up somewhere in WordPress.  Next I go to Facebook and make some witty remark about it to try to get some of the zombies there to pull themselves away from looking for unicorn eggs in Castleville and, I dunno, maybe READ SOMETHING?!  Then I go to Gmail and fire off the link to a bunch of coworkers and acquaintances who I’ve bullied and begged into giving me their email addresses.  Once that’s all done, there’s nothing left to do but sit back and wait to see if people read it.

After 30 seconds of that, I click the refresh button on the dashboard page and check to see if anything’s changed.  On a side note, this is the same way I fish.  I bait the hook, cast it into the briny deep, then 30 seconds later, reel it in to see if anything’s on the hook yet.  To those of you who don’t understand fishing, I’ll give you hint – that’s NOT how to do it.

Anyway, back to my dopey Castro blog.  If you didn’t read it, I’m about to spoil the one small joke that was in it, so you might want to avert your eyes – or better yet, click on the title link above and read it, then come back to this.  We’ll wait.

…. It’s only 400 and some words, how long can it take him?!…what the hell!…still not back?….I bet he moves his lips when he reads…Oh!  You there??…Great to have you back with us!

So as I was saying, the sad little joke I made in the Castro piece was about a news story where Obama is going to go to some summit and wear a guayabera shirt.  As I learned from the article, a guayabera shirt is supposedly originally from a region of Cuba.  Castro was not invited to this Latin Summit and he found it amusing that Obama would be wearing a Cuban shirt to a party that Cuba was excluded from.  I’ve never knowingly seen a guayabera shirt, but I’m guessing it’s one of those blousey numbers with the plunging neckline and puffy sleeves like Fabio used to wear on the cover of romance novels.  Obama will look dashing in one of those.

Anyway, my joke was to mix up guayabera with chupacabra.  The chupacabra is a mythical beast which supposedly terrorizes the desert southwest and parts of Mexico.  I know, it’s a pretty sad excuse for a joke.  Maybe that’s why I kept it under 500 words.  You can only beat a dead chupacabra for so long, even if you throw in a few Pamela Anderson references.

So anyway, now I’m waiting for it.  Under normal circumstances, I clamor for comments on my blogs.  I prefer witty ones from people who know how to use spell check, but generally anything will suffice to feed my pathetic ego.  This time it’s different.  I know that it’s only a matter of time before some person with good intentions writes me a comment which tells me that I got it wrong.  They’ll tell me they liked the piece, to put me at ease, then they’ll “just let me know” the difference between a Cuban shirt and a mythical cow maiming dog-beast.

"No my friend, you're mistaken. While your blog was humorous, I'm afraid you were thinking of the chupacabra. The guayabera is in fact a type of shirt.. Don't beat yourself up over it - it was an honest mistake." (Einstein image from uidaho.edu)

The longer I wait for this inevitable comment, the more my brain churns out strategies on how to address it.  I treasure each and every one of my loyal followers.  For the record, I have enough of them now to form a basketball team with substitutes!   I wouldn’t want to lose one by embarrassing him or her in the quasi-public realm of the comment section.  I’m thinking that maybe the best way to address it is to respond with some glib quip like “Ooops!  Ya got me!” or “I knew I should’ve read the whole article! Doh!”

The suspense is killing me.

Marriage 101 Required reading: Man to woman dictionary

• She Says: "This will hurt me more than it hurts you"

• She Means: "If this hurts me more than it hurts you, I'm doing it wrong"

Do we have to wonder why this artist only lived to be 38?
Bartholomeus Molenaer (1612-1650)

 

I recently read a blog which troubled me.  The fact that I read a blog which troubled me also troubled me, as I tend to stay away from troubling blogs, preferring to occupy my time with light-hearted, funny blogs and those with pictures of cleavage in them.  The blog in question detailed a woman’s frustration with her husband.  It took no time at all to realize the problem.  These two lovebirds had a serious communication breakdown.  I felt badly for them, as there seemed to be no way this husband and wife would possibly find a way to understand each other without some outside assistance.

I knew that I had to step in and help.  I had planned on cleaning the garage and policing the yard for dog dookie, but I would have to put these selfish acts aside and work on bridging their gender communication gap first.

Here now, I present some common Man-Woman / Woman-Man translations accompanied by typical interpretations:

• When he says:  “Honey, have you seen my car keys?”

• He means: “I can’t seem to find my car keys – I hope you’ve seen them”

The common female interpretation is: “I’m an idiot.  Even a toddler can keep track of a jingling set of shiny keys.  Maybe in the future I should secure my keys to a massive chunk of 2 X 4 so they’re harder for me to lose in my limited mental capacity.  I don’t deserve a woman like you.  Please help me”

• When she says: ” Does this skirt make my butt look fat?”

• She means: “Do you ever wish you’d married someone else?  Do you realize I shopped for hours to find this skirt?  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to lose this baby weight?”

The common male interpretation is: “Don’t you dare answer this question.  It’s a trap, run..RUN NOW!!”

• When he says: “Is that a new blouse?”

• He means: “I wonder how it will look in a heap on the floor after we get the kids to bed”

The common female interpretation is: “Does that idiot think this is a new blouse?  I bought this back when we were still dating!  Crap, I could’ve bought a new blouse”

• When she says: “Do you mind helping with the dishes?”

• She means: “Do the dishes yourself and be glad I don’t break a plate over your head!  Wasn’t it enough that I cooked the dinner in the first place?  Do I have to do everything?”

The common male interpretation is: “The Browns are a 10 point dog against the Steelers.  My neck itches again.  Did she just ask me something?  Crap!  What should I say?  I’ll just nod.  Maybe if I do the dishes she won’t wait for an answer to whatever she asked”

• When she says: “Hey Shakespeare!  I thought you were going to organize the garage today.  Why are you still sitting there typing”

• She means: “Unless you’re going to start making money doing that blog nonsense, you better turn off the laptop and start organizing the tools and patio furniture.  And don’t forget, it was your bright idea to get a dog”

The common interpretation is: “Did she just ask me something?  Dammit, there goes my train of thought!  I was just about to come up with a witty, smart-assed way to end this post”

My strategy for blogging world domination

I just looked at my site stats and saw some remarkable stuff.  One interesting thing was that over the month that I’ve been writing, I’ve had one hit each in Indonesia, Malaysia and  Romania, two from the UK, three from the Philippines and seven in Egypt.  The vast majority of my hits came from the US and Canada.  For the record, Canada is nice to have since it takes up a really big part of the map and makes my postings look much more impressive.

It’s clear to me that I’ve pretty much milked North America dry.  I’ll really need to bring up my Eastern European and Pacific Rim numbers if I want to get anywhere.  If I can build on my already stellar Middle Eastern demographics I’ll be in good shape.  This all reminds me about how badly I sucked at playing the board game “Risk” back in my childhood.  Maybe it would help my global blog strategy if I finally learned where Kamchatka is.

I think it's in the green part. This aint no Chutes n Ladders, son (Image courtesy of Wikipedia)

My first instinct to improve the international hits was a typical rookie mistake; I assumed that I needed my posts to include topics which would cater to people in the regions I was targeting for growth.  I’d need stories featuring Buddhism, gypsies and prepubescent Olympic gymnasts.  After careful consideration and a quick inventory about how little I actually know about those places and topics, I decided on a different direction as my best strategy.  People in those countries don’t want to read about the places where they already are, they want to read about my country and my exciting exploits, told in my witty American style.

If I want to boost my numbers in Indonesia, I’ll need to come across as even more American than I already am.  I’ll need to work on fitting in references to hamburgers and monster truck races in my piece about my visit to the Philadelphia Flower Show.

One helpful tip I picked up at the flower show was using your monster truck instead of that boring old roto-tiller. Remember, you'll get better results if you do it on SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAYYY!! (Image courtesy of Flickr)

One way to get more Romanians to tune in could be to drop little hints as to who won Survivor 3 years ago so they can know in advance when it airs there.  Maybe I can tell a little white lie about the winner of the final challenge doing so by using a monster truck to smash his competition.

I unfollowed someone…It had to be done

This stuff is still pretty new to me.  I barely have a grasp on real-time, face-to-face etiquette, there’s just no way I can be up to speed on blog-site manners yet.

When someone clicks the “like” box on one of my posts (it’s happened to me a few times – VERY gratifying), I’m notified of it, and gently urged by WordPress to return the favor and look at the blog of the “liker”.  It seems genteel enough.  A polite gesture which, if followed, will increase readership and broaden everyone’s blogging horizons.  If someone is nice enough to follow me, I mentally applaud their impeccable taste and usually follow them in return, as it would seem likely to me that they might have something interesting to say.

More often than not, this strategy works pretty well.  Many of the blog writers I follow put out consistently interesting, enjoyable work.  Once in a while, it doesn’t quite work that way

As an aside, I must say that I was surprised at the home page of WordPress.  It seemed that most of the blogs which are featured were photographic essays.  I’m all for taking photos, and I know enough about the art form to know that I may take pictures, but I am not a photographer.  Still, taking photos of the foliage of Borneo hardly compares to say, writing a humorous piece about ones wife being traumatized by early TV exposure to Vincent Price in a bald cap.  I mean, let’s face it, the biggest challenge of taking those pictures is getting your ass to Borneo without forgetting to pack the camera.  Still, to each his own.  Since the likelihood of me getting to Borneo is pretty damn slim, I’ll enjoy the pics and let that subject go.

Anyway, the other day, yet another blogger “liked” my post.  Then they decided to follow me.  Not one to turn my nose up at a disciple, I returned the favor.  Big mistake.

It turned out this person just cuts and pastes anything and everything they find interesting onto their blog.  It may be a photo they saw online, or a piece of shiny metal they found on the sidewalk.  Occasionally they post written words, which appear to have been translated to English by someone who doesn’t speak it too well.  It’s kind of like walking on the beach with someone who’s never seen a bivalve before.  You can’t take two steps without being stopped and shown the new cool clam shell they found.   Only we’re not talking about something as limited as the thousands of genus and species of shellfish found on the Eastern Seaboard of North America, we’re talking about the entire internet and anything anyone has ever posted ever about anything.  If you think I’m exaggerating, consider this.  This blogger posted more than 23 blogs in less than 24 hours.  Some were single photographs, one was a memorial about Davey Jones written by someone else, still others were essentially bad, old jokes.

Wow! Check out these cool shells I found. I went all the way to Oregon to take this pic!

Since I’m notified via email when the people I follow post blogs, my email box was blowing up.  At first I was excited, thinking there was feedback for things I’d written or comment give and take.  Instead it was post after post after post by this person.  They had seen a sports car they liked and posted a picture of it.  No description, no editorial comments, just a picture of a car.  The photo looked professional and was doubtless taken by an actual photographer in some exotic locale.  The usual excitement I experienced when I see the little envelope on my phone quickly changed to dread.

What is it Skippy?  Did you find another oyster shell?

When I got back to my laptop, I unfollowed this hyper-blogger.

I recalled a fairly traumatic unfriending episode on Facebook with a co-worker.  I saw her daily, but when she annoyed me one time too many online, I unfriended her.  She ignored me in person for at least a year.  Not a huge loss, as she may have annoyed me in person a few times too.

I’m hopeful that this “unfollowing” doesn’t have similar repercussions.  Regardless, I can’t have people sending me knock- knock jokes, it interferes with my creative process.  No offense I hope.