I Realized What Kills Most Blogs

I had this epiphany.

I realize that means I should go on Oprah.

You have the epipahny, then you go sit on Oprah's couch and tell the world about it.

Life doesn't get any better than that.

Really, it doesn't.

I realized what kills most blogs.

Or what kills most blogs for me, I should say, why I stop reading blogs and why I think many of these people seem to stop posting later.

What kills most blogs is the desire to be cool.

The desire not to be taken.

The desire to be terminally oblique and oracular and Pythian and sacerdotal and weird and quirky and kooky and sidelong.

It's not that these blogs don't all achieve these things, it's just that...

so does a carwash.

I think my blog is like an i.v. on a trolley. You know, a glass jar filled with some clear shit hung from a metal pole that I have to be mindful of as I walk down the hall which smells funny and hear the guy going "oh! oh! mmmerrrr oh!" in the one room and the lady saying "aaaarruummm turn that fucking thing off!" in the next room and in the next room i catch a glimpse of the young male nurse i thought was gay fucking the septuagenerian lady who thinks she's twenty.

who knew.

I apologize when the breeze picks up and this gown shows you my ass.

But they design them for that.

They have corporate design meetings and demonstrate the hospital gown.

If the ass doesn't embarrsingly show, they fire the designer.

The best ass-showing designers live in big houses that make you winded just to go from the front door to the pantry.

And there's a summer kitchen out back the house literally moved stone by stone from old Virginia.

You think I make this stuff up.

You are so deluded.

I want to do 100 Views of Mount Fuji but only things in my house. I had this idea in the middle of the night.

It's scanner art.

Maybe I will start it later today or tonight.

I have to go out and enjoy this gorgeous day.

Spring has reset its thermostat correctly this time.

The birds and I are happy.

Enjoy your Saturday (or Sunday if you're Australian I think...hi y'all Down Under).

Aussie Bums are hot.

Aussie anything is hot.

The top and the bottom of the world have the hottest men.

(Oh, another reason I stop reading blogs is because I'm lazy. I should add that.)