The Tale of The Incompitent Virgo; a Valentine's Day Story

Once long ago, in a small sleepy town,
lived the incompitent virgo, and his wife, oh so round.

With baby she was, and 'bout due to pop,
a romance he had planned, that nobody could top.

He researched and studied, for weeks he did plan,
'till he had made the best bath in the land.

Rose petals and oil he gathered aplenty,
when the water was right 'n' candles were ready,

He turned off the lights
and he guided her in

Blind as she was, scarf tied 'bout her head,
she trusted him, sure she had nothing to dread.

Into the wall he tossed her with force,
as he made panicked noises and with relief, cursed.

Soon they did halt, having come to the tub
and he told her to enter her bath, made with love.

Stepping inside, she slipped on the bottom
saving herself only because she caught him.

On her way down, settling in,
dread she did feel, as something stuck to her end.

Grainy and coarse was the surface she sat on,
covered in oil, being greased up just felt wrong.

Determined of course, to not grimace to loudly,
knowing this gift he presented so proudly.

Unknown to her, the ordeal was not over
as he left for the milk and brought a cup closer.

Still she was blind, bewildered, confused
He said "lean forward, I have something for you".

Straight down her back, the ice cold milk ran,
fresh from the fridge, what a wonderful man!

Unable to hold herself in check any longer,
she screeched, tore off blindfold, and gazed on in wonder.

Candlelight flickered, incense scented the air
her wall impact, clearly for the sake of  her hair.

Rose petals floated on the water's surface,

that had stuck to her tush as she struggled for purchase.

Oils and salts to the bath he had added,
With how hard he'd tried, she was truly saddened.

To tell him a shower was needed most urgent,
and all of his work tossed aside for detergents.

Months later their marriage she did finally forgoe,
Alas, poor, sweet, hapless, incompitent virgo.

(Based on a true story)

Can I get a Why-Why for repeditive Stupidity?

An email last week from a local restaurant wanted to know if they could could get a "what-what" for some upcoming special event they were having.

And I can't help but wonder;

What the in the leaky hells is a "what-what"?

Why would anyone, much less a restaurant, want one?

Is this a new word for 'positive exclamation'?

Am I getting so old that new versions of 'cool, phat, jammin', hot, radical, neat, fly', and so forth seem incurably moronic to me?

OH NOES! I just realized that I typed the equivalent of four generations' worth of positive exclamations into that single line...

Okay, so I'm officially old, now what? *chuckle*

Squirrely Cricket-Legged Women

Hot summer days and dresses don't work well together. Actually, they work really well together, if you are trying to start a fire.

Bare legs rubbing together like a cricket during a 90 degree evening.

There seems to be something missing...

Oh yeah, the fun factor, that's what's missing.

Nothing fun about catching fire to one's nether-regions due to heat and friction.

Blah

Cycling

Ain't that the truth?

The Answers

Ya know all those great stories I've promised you over the years, that somehow, never got written?

And all the grand projects and schemes that I've had, that never quite made it off the ground, or, made it off the ground just fine, then crashed and burned due to overt neglect?

My irritation over silly things like someone touching the chair I'm sitting in, and
more than one sound running at the same time. My excessive forgetfulness and inability to keep any reasonable track of time or remember what happened as little as three minutes ago.

I can't reliably remember who I've told what stories to, or who told me what, or when, regardless of the fact that I remember exactly what was said.

The appointments, events, and fun that I've missed completely, or been exceedingly late to, and more are all explained quite concisely in the little graphic below.

Yeah, out of a potential highest score of 70 and up, I scored a 102...

So as soon as I can find a spare moment, enough time to concentrate on finding someone to do the testing, and make it to a doctor's appointment on time, I'll be diagnosed, and have meds to help with the problem...

Riiiight.

A Crappy Birthday

So my birthday started out with a lost wallet, which made everything else get pushed back for several hours. But that wasn't the crappy part.

No, the crappy part was the time before we went to Lamberts.

My mother had to take a stool sample to her doctor's office, ad she forgot it in her house. So we had to go back, and get it for her. Turning the car around to pick up a load of forgotten crap? Crappy enough, right?

No, we had to deliver it too.

Of course, my mother is MUCH slower than everyone else in the car so we had to essentially draw straws over who had to deliver it into the office. I lost, so I had to run in a sack of poop to the lab.

Wandering in, I had to wait in line, and when I got fed up with waiting, I set it on an empty desk, and told them that the poop Currier had arrived with their poop delivery and walked off.

Then they called me back, and asked me what time the waste was deposited into the containers inside the bag. I told them that it wasn't my crap, and I had no idea, but I wasn't walking outside again and running back in like some crazed messenger pigeon so I could deliver their precious information. So I asked for their phone number and forced my mother to call them from the car while I drove us to the other place that she needed to go (on my special day, I am forced to run errands). *rolls eyes*

Onward I drove to the med supply place to exchange her CPAP, and after signing her paperwork for her, I was finally able to get us down to Lamberts for my birthday dinner.

I wasn't able to go visit the few friends I had wanted to because everything was so late, but I went home full, and was able to drop by the potluck at The Radish (late), before I finally went home with friends (who had shown up at The Radish while we were there), and had a good time visiting and eating junk food until the wee hours of the morning.

All in all, it was a pretty decent birthday, and I was surprisingly happy for most of the day, despite the excessive delays.

A crappy day to be sure, but only in prevailing theme *chuckle*

Courtly Matters

Well, we had court on the 5th, to testify for the prosecution, but there was a snafu with the law.

Something about an edit to a law pertaining to the case, where the lawyers aren't sure if the edit was actually applied to the law or not. They rescheduled the hearing until they find out if anything happened to the law or not.

But there was a funny little highlight to the event, that made the waiting time worth it, even though nothing else productive happened.

As they were discussing the recent snafu, the judge looked at the lawyers and said something along the lines of 'Surely you aren't suggesting that the Missouri legislature is confused?' Ten they ALL laughed.

LAUGHED!

Now I don't know about you, but I've never seen a lawyer laugh while at work, nor have I seen a judge laugh while on the bench. I've seen a judge hold in a chuckle before, but never actually laugh. And to see the judge, prosecutor, and defense attorneys all laugh over a shared joke was simply priceless.

Our new court day is in June, and I await the arrival of our new pieces of green paper demanding our presence. (subpoenas)

Until later -

Legaleeze

Alright, time to come clean I guess. A LOT has been going on here since we last talked, and I can't really be sure of where to start, being as how I have thoroughly neglected all four of my blogs, but I haven't forgotten you.

Actually, I think of you several times a week, not that you'd know by my absence here, however.

So here's the dish, short and sweet.

The reason I've been gone so long, and the reason my posting was so sparse before I up and disappeared. Or, at least the biggest reason, anyway.

The man I had been calling husband for four years was in the paper a couple of Saturdays ago, under a headline that read, simply, "WANTED" in two inch letters on the front page. He was there with three other criminals, who were wanted for either molesting children, murder, or armed robbery, depending of whom we speak.

He's now in jail awaiting trial, and Ladybug, who has now changed her name to Pirate, and I have been subpoenaed to attend his preliminary hearing, as wittnesses for the prosecution, since he was stupid enough to plead not guilty after confessing his crimes to no less than three separate government agencies. But I digress.

Yes, I'm being intentionally vague, but if you don't know of what I speak, then mayhaps it is better for you that you don't. If you really want to know, there are ways to fill in the details for yourself, which you can also figure out yourself.

An aside:
I the past year or so, I have had to sensor myself a bit, in order to prevent the wrong kind of people, mainly predators, sociopaths, and stalkers, from preying on my children and I as they have attempted to do in the past. If they are reading these words themselves, which I don't doubt in the least, they should remember that I still have all of the information collected previously, and all of the protective measures are still in place, including the information garnered from the repeated attacks and attempts at manipulation via MySpace and YouTube. My willingness to call the police and report the harassment has not wavered. I will not hesitate to press charges.

Amusing tales arise out of every tale, of course, no matter how bad the situation is, and this time is no different...

For example, I don't know of anyone else who has berated a U.S. Marshall and gotten away with it, much less twice, and received two apologies in the bargain.

It all started when I got a knock on my door the Tuesday after the article ran in the paper. I was rather surprised to see un-uniformed men at my door with badges hanging from their necks, but then I'd never seen a U.S. Marshall before either. When they asked me if I knew where that man was (after verifying my identity), I retorted by asking them if they were too lazy to open his file. Probably not the best possible reply, but after having learned not long before That he'd had a warrant since January, and the police hadn't bothered to open his file enough to actually call or write him at his contact address and ask him to come in for "some more questioning", I was pretty ticked. Especially since he...Maybe I should start a bit earlier in the story...

After he broke the law, he went in to the police department and confessed to his crime. They thanked him and sent him on his merry way. In the process of their investigation, to build a case against him, several other folks from government agencies interviewed him, and he confessed to his crimes each and every time. That's Social Services/CPS/DFS, The police, the prosecuting attorney for the state, and the district attorney. During all of that, he repeatedly told them, and verified extensively, his contact address and contact phone number. The police knew where to go to contact him, at ALL times, and simply didn't bother...

The paper published an article whining about how our poor police force was SO low on resources that they couldn't catch the hardened, dangerous criminals that were out on the street. There was another criminal, a murderer, that the police knew he was the entire time, and didn't bother to pick him up. After all of the people in the neighborhood calling the police repeatedly, and filling them in on where he was and when on his daily trek (same times, same places, every day, mind you), They still said that they didn't have the resources to "track down" the most dangerous criminals on our city's streets. This is despite the fact that out of the four criminals whined about in the paper, two of them were VERY easy to find, and would have been relatively simple to apprehend.

Of course, I'll be one of the first to agree that our police force is seriously lacking in resources. In the winter, spring, and fall, when our college-town's population explodes, we're at an extreme shortage of officers. When those few available officers spend their time stalking homeless people down the street and harassing harmless kids on the square, that's squandering the department's meager resources. But I digress.

Okay, enough with the flashback, we return to the U.S. Marshals.

After I asked them if they were too lazy to open his file, they looked taken aback for a moment, before telling me that they had not been given his file. "Does the idiocy of our city's police department never cease?", I wondered to myself. Seriously, send out professionals to do the job you were supposed to do, but don't give them any of the tools or information you have gathered. Make them start from scratch, and see how much longer it can take to get the job done.

I made my feelings clear about the incompetence of my local department, and the Marshals apologized for how long it was taking, and promised me that they would be able to actually do the job right, and quickly.

So I gave them the information that he had so often provided, that same information that was in his file, and after a bit of further discussion, they went on their way.

About that further discussion though, that's were the funny happened...

So these armed men and I are talking outside of my front door, and one of them spits into one of my potted plants that I had just recently brought outside to get some sun. Spits his nasty tobacco-juice in my plant! I looked back and forth from him to my plant a couple of times, then said "That's my plant.". He looked down at the plant and back up at me, with a guileless look on is face, and replied "Yes, I'm helping it, see how dry it is?", but I told him that he wasn't helping it, in fact, if it were a tomato plant, he'd be killing it. I asked him if he'd ever heard of Tobacco Mosaic Virus, and when he repeated the name, looking confused, I went on to educate him in what it was, and what it did, as well as how tomatoes contract the disease. Realizing that he had committed a serious faux pas, he apologized rather profusely (for an agent of the law, anyway), and proceeded to spit in the parking lot from then on out, until they both left.

About 20 minutes later, I got a call from Clifton's mother, saying that the police just left with him, having just picked him up. He didn't put up any fight, and was very cooperative when they came for him, having discovered them in his mother's house when he returned from having purchased a beer for her. I guess they had meant it when they said they would get him into custody quickly.

About 10 minutes after I got off the phone with Flo, the U.S. Marshall calls me to let me know that they have picked him up, and to thank me for my help. Not that I did anything that the police couldn't have done by providing even a part of the case file on the crime, but if they want to give me credit, fine, I'll take it.

So now you know.

Fifty Things

Well, several months ago, my computer's screen went wonky. It wouldn't display correctly at all, so I had to hook my beloved portable notebook computer to a stationary monitor so that I could use it.

I wasn't sure if it was the screen or the video card that was bad, but I didn't have the money to fix either, so I just let it be. Annoying, but not the end of the world.

Not long after that, my H key decided to pop off, so for the last few months I have been typing with it trying to fly off the keyboard, and being forced to check all of my typing to make sure there are no H's missing.

Later, there seemed to be something wrong with my power connector, so I took my machine to a friend's house and we opened it up to check what was wrong. Come to find out, we hadn't needed to open the machine up at all, because the problem was the power cord...

But when we were putting the computer back together, we used a screw in the wrong place, and cracked the LCD screen...

So my generous friend (who had handed me the wrong screw) ordered me a new LCD.

And we replaced the cracked one a week later, to discover that it was the screen that was the problem all along, and my happy machine was finally portable again! (as soon as I got the replacement power cord in from the manufacturer.)

And the power chord came in, and it worked perfectly, and life was divine.

All except for my H key.

And the machine running WAY too slow...

SO I ran some spyware and virus removal programs, and a registry cleaner.

And the machine ran much faster...

And I took it to Vision Con.

Where it couldn't get online at all for some odd reason.

Somehow, either something infected my computer while I was at the convention, through their wireless network, without me getting online, or one of the programs I used had eaten my ability to get online.

But I reverted the computer to a moth before, and now it works to get online, even though I am missing some programs and such that I had installed from GOTD for free. I may have to wait for several months before I see them again, or possible never get them back at all, but the computer works, mostly.

Then the H key started working too well, typing doubles when I hit it, and even activating when I had only hit a key nearby...

But a friend of mine has a very similar notebook, and the company just sent her a new keyboard because her machine is under warranty.

And she is going to let me have her old keyboard, so that I can fix mine with parts from hers!

But her hubby hasn't installed it yet. And I'm not going to until he says I can because he's a computer tech and he specializes in computer repair and networking, so I don't want to step on his toes, especially in his own home.

But he's been so busy lately, and it's been near three weeks that my friend has had her replacement keyboard sitting on her bookshelf...

And now, my N key is failing to activate when I press it too, and the H key is off of the computer all the way...

If it's not one thing, it's fifty!

Weekly Weight Report (Riiight!)

You remember when I was all amazed and excited about shedding weight a time back, right?

Weekly reports on how much I was loosing, commentary on the losses, gains, stalled moments and all, it was a fun ride, and we shared it together for a while.

Until I discovered that my scale was terribly inaccurate.

Not that the weight lost wasn't accurate, just the numbers the scale was spitting out. The amount lost was still the same, as it was inaccurate to the same degree each time.

I have yet to be able to afford a new scale, as there is so much else that is so much more important to pay for at the moment, and I kind of feel bad for not keeping up with the weekly thing anyway, but I'd also feel bad for giving you false numbers.

I think you see where I'm going here, don't you?

So, last time I weighed myself, about a month ago, the scale at our house said I weighed only 145lbs, and had 10lbs to go to my goal weight. With much joy and exuberance, I told you;

Me:
Starting weight (August 2007): 245lbs
Last Week's Weight: 153lbs
Current Weight: 145lbs
Shed Weight: 8lbs
Total drop to date: 100lbs
Weight Goal: 135
Pounds to Loose: 10

I weighed myself on that rickety old liar of a scale again a week or so ago, and it said I had reached my goal! So the incorrect scale says I've lost that final ten pounds, and all the weight I planned to, but there's a problem.

The scale is wrong, terribly, horribly wrong!

Sure, I look like I did back in 200o, and that's great! I've effectively shed 8 years worth of consistent weight gain in a single year!

Woohoo!

But anyway, the scale reads low. If it wasn't for me knowing that I was nearly 200lbs back in 2000 that told me it was off, my friends weighing themselves on it would have convinced me for sure.

They said they adored my scale, and it was great for motivation, but not much else, and I agree.

So I have a little task ahead of me. I need to get a new (or at least new-to-me, and accurate) scale in the house, and find out how much I weigh now. I'll also have to find out what I topped off at, at my peak heaviness.

I have a searing dread that I was over 300 pounds at my peak, and I'm honestly a little afraid to find out what I weighed back then, or what I weigh now for that matter. Looks like its time for a trip to the doctor, or at least the scale aisle in my local shopping center. *sigh*

On the other hand, I was walking to the store the other day, and got wolf-whistled by three college boys in a pickup truck, so I know I'm looking lots better than I used to, even if the mirror didn't say so (and it does, loudly). *smile*

Have you ever been a little happy to be deluded, even after you found out about it?

The Rarest Of The Species

"Perhaps one of the most commonly sited species in North America, is the dead animal on the road."

"The dead animal on the road measures 5 foot by 3 foot, by 1/4 inch."

This would, of course, be the absolute rarest of the species, the dead fish on the Greenway trail.

Photo capture inspired by "Canadian Wildlife: The Dead Animal On The Road", a song/skit by The Frantics, from their album "Frantic Times".

You can hear the beginning of the song here.

The Frantics are a Canadian comedy group often featured on the Dr. Demento show. For more info and a listing of their other songs, visit their unofficial fan site.

EDIT: Faith was surprised that I didn't mention that I found this fishy while out geocaching, so here's the edit. *chuckle* You find some of the most interesting things (besides the caches themselves) while hunting for Tupperware in the woods!

Mutant Boobs

These things I bear upon my chest have almost always been a hindrance to me. When they first sprouted, they were only slightly annoying. Like most girls, the dismay at my body growing cushy things that were easily damaged was tempered by the excitement of showing physical signs of adulthood.

But they continued to grow.

At my first brassiere fitting at the age of 11, the assistant informed me that if they grew any more, I would fall over onto my face.

And still they grew.

At 14, I couldn't wear a two-piece swimsuit because I wore a sz 14 top, and a sz 9 bottoms. They don't make suits like that, so I spent most of my teen years wearing a one-piece that was a little loose on the bottom and way too tight on the top.

I needed a new restraint device for them recently, and when I couldn't find something that fit comfortably and gave me the support I desired at "regular" stores, a friend told me about a local lingerie shop that specialized in odd sizes.

So I went.

Now, you all know that I've been loosing a lot of weight as of late, so I had no real idea what my size was, but the tape measure said I was a completely outrageous size. The saleswoman at the specialty shop got it right however, nearly at first glance.

I had been wearing a 42DD, and 38DDD because those fit the best of the ones I could find elsewhere, but she brought me a 40F! After a few different styles, we found one with the right cup style and comfort level.

She suggested I only buy one, and continue to also wear the slightly-too-large-around-the-ribs one I had, but set to the tightest setting, as with the speed of my losses, I would likely be buying a new bra within a month or two anyway.

Finally, I have a bra that fits, unlike over 80% if women who don't wear the right size. I'm finally comfortable and supported..

But a 40F!!!???!!!

If my chest has it's way, I'll never fit into anything below a size 16, just because of them.

Next suit I buy, I'll have to go to a seamstress and have it properly fitted to fit the other parts of my body correctly.

I'm not even going to start on how I'm too short to fit into most slacks. *laugh*

Danged mutant boobs.

Quoted

"Stop eating your sandwiches through the middle, that's how you get food in your ears!"

~Me, speaking to Littlebit while we enjoy a quick family lunch before heading out to the library.~

Nut Bolts & Screws... Himself

(Hey kids, today's a special post, it's got a game inside, like a hidden easter egg. It's called "Smut Bingo"! Count how many potentially lewd words you can find in the following post. The winner {picked at random from the right answers} gets a special surprise prize in the mail. Let's play with each other and see what score you get!)

My apologies for being absent so long, but my mother called me with a news story on Monday, and I couldn't stop laughing until now to tell you about it. It's kind of hard to write when you are vibrating.

Porn theft seems to be blossoming throughout the Ozarks this month.

On the 10th, someone robbed the largest adult bookstore in the state at gunpoint. There were no injuries, and the police are reviewing the videotapes. All the robber wanted was some quick cash. Amazingly, that's relatively common, and not very newsworthy, but for that robbery to happen so close to this next one is kind of odd, as Paradise usually only gets robbed about three times a year or so (from what I've heard). The odds are seriously stacked against the timing.

Around midnight this past Saturday, another man got the seemingly undeniable urge for a bit of reading material, some "novelty toys", and a light seasoning of lingerie. Breaking into three separate adult book stores, the guy ran rampant, completely ignoring cash registers containing money, and instead going straight.. well, I'm not sure what exactly he got off/away with, the police aren't releasing that info..., let's say directly to the books, magazines, and potentially jelly-filled, sculpted, vibrating thingies. Only one of the locations reported any missing clothing, with all the stores saying that the truly expensive items were left alone. This fellow knew what he wanted, and was determined to get it, even if he did have to "shop around" to find just the right "fit".

Wearing a black hoodie didn't give him much protection during his shopping spree, despite the fact that the stores he picked were all closed, as he was captured quite clearly on videotape both while making his selections, and when he was simply busy gaining entrance by bashing one of the doors in with a crowbar, and ramming his van onto the fronts of the other two locations.

One store reports having retrieved fingerprints and even a blood sample of the robber, which police hope will help in apprehending the criminal. Some in the city are surprised that he didn't leave a sperm sample as well, while Keebler is convinced this was some sort of fraternity hazing prank gone horribly awry.

[Where: Springfield, MO]

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A T'd & Peeved

The phone company has yanked us around again. I didn't have mobile phone service yesterday or today (for the second time in three months), and if I didn't have a contract with them, I would cancel so fast their heads would spin off into another dimension. I'll be on the phone with them tomorrow about it, and I will get a refund for both the cost (pro-rated) of the two days of service they stole from me, as well as all the minutes I could have used (remember those free weekends I get on my plan?), credited to my account to begin to make up for the company's continued incompetence.

They could be nice, make my plan better and add on free data/internet for my phones for the remaining duration of our contracts, I would issue full forgiveness for that kind of apology, but that's unlikely.

In the nice time, since I am stuck in a contract that locks us in their clutches for another year, do you know anyone with a working iphone they don't want anymore? *laugh*

Update: The credited my account their customary "rightfully upset customer apology bonus", and turned our phones back on again.

Being Girly

Who was the idiot who came up with adding perfume to tampons, pads and panty liners?

One day, some complete moron thought it would be a good idea, and for some odd reason, that moron is now likely a millionaire.

I bet it went something like this;
Women don't want people to know they are on their period, and fear that they smell bad when that's going on, so let's add a froofy smell to the stuff they use to prevent messes.

Makes sense on that small level, except for the fact that now, for one week out of the month the women who use these things smell like they stuffed a dryer sheet in their pants.

Yeah, that'll make sure nobody has a clue what's going on!

And what imbecile rubs a toxic perfume-drenched piece of cotton against a mucus membrane for several days in a row anyway? Are these people not aware that mucus membranes are the quick-absorption channels into the bloodstream, or do they just not care?

It's no wonder the yeast infection medicine business is booming.

* Rant brought to you by a mistaken purchase by the Keebler, who says "I know cookies, not Kotex.".

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Happy New Blogs!

In honor of the first day of 2008, I have gone public with two great new blogs for your enjoyment.

Bathroom Ramblings & Stallside Prose is a graffiti blog capturing and sharing the anonymous art and wit expressed in bathrooms around the world. As public project blog, you are invited to snap a photo of your favorite bits of wisdom or silliness with your digital camera or camera phone, and email them to me at the address listed on the blog's sidebar. What great fun we will have together!

Products & Places is a review blog of places and products I've experienced. Guaranteed to be blatantly honest, well balanced, and full of information. I will be accepting products to review, and there will be periodic giveaways. Regardless of the source of the product, I promise to remain loyal to my non-biased form of reporting and reviews. Location reviews are currently restricted to the Springfield, Missouri area, but this will change and grow by far when we finally get rolling in the new RV.

Happy New Year!

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Blogger Funnies

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10 Years & Counting

This week heralds the 10 Year Anniversary of Blogging. The jury is out as to whether the exact date was last Monday, or this coming Sunday, but it started ten years ago, my internets, here on the web for all to see.

Now, that's not to say, like most have, that I believe the first ever instance of the word being used was a mere 10 years ago. Nay, I say. That was just the first use of the word to refer to a web log or journal online.

Accordion Guy has tracked the spelling and use back to a Superman Comic from 1959. Unfortunately, it was used as a name, not in relation to a journal or log of any sort. That was just the first time the word was used in media though.

The first time "blog" was used at all, was when Samuel Adams wrote about the Boston Tea Party in a little known journal which he titled "The Boston Log". When speaking to friends and colleagues, he referred to it as his "blog". Check the facts by scrolling half-way down this page, or join the discussion on gullible.info, a great source for true trivia and other "useless" knowledge, here. Seeing as how that was a journal, I can reliably say we've tracked the etymology of the word, all the way back to 1774.

But I digress;

It has been ten years since the word first came to mean what it does today; a web log, internet journal, or world wide web log.

Hurray, let us all celebrate 10 years of obnoxiously bad web design, flashing glittery crud and cursor trails on pages spouting some of the most angst-ridden drivel ever.

Further proof that one person, no matter how whiny and self-absorbed, can change the world.

Happy Birthday Blogosphere!

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I'm Not Really A Troll, But I Play One On The Internet

Well, not usually, but they asked so nicely, I simply couldn't resist giving them what they wanted. No really, Mashable, the blog about all social networks asked people to troll their posts in a cute contest, and I decided to join in. I can always use a free gift. *grin*

The post I went for was an easy one. Mashable says: "QuickJump, the extensive blogging network for coverage of all things concerning online and console games, is being auctioned off for a cool $5 million as its minimum bid." Then they ask the inevitable question of why, with $60,000 a month in revenue from the network, the owner may be selling.

To me, the reasoning behind the sale was obvious. Being a "troll" however, I attempted to pass on my insights in the rudest possible manner, while bragging about having the first comment on the post, as I've seen many a troll do before my try at it.

"Firstsies!

Well, let's see. Niche blogging sites are kack. Same as niche social networks are junk. Myspace, Facebook, and the other uber-cool sites are great because they are for all people, sharing all of their interests.

You can get a really good target audience by trolling one of these multi-genre sites, discovering connections like "rocky horror fans generally also like going to clubs to socialize, watching/reading science fiction and fantasy, and enjoy role playing". That's the kind of ad targeting we need in today's complicated market, and despite what folks may say, the ads make the money for the network, so are all-important. No ads, no network.

They niche sites are dying out because folks don't enjoy having separate accounts for everything all over the danged place anymore, and the owner of this thing is trying to get out from under it before it flops.

Places like the social network for surf boarders are not for multi-dimensional people who happen to also surfboard, they are for people who only want to talk and network about surfing and nothing else. Serious fragmentation of the demographic.

The people want simplicity and integration, while the companies want targeted niche markets. I see a rift in web 2.0 forming..."

It's awfully hard to be insulting, obnoxious, know-it-all, and braggart on request.

How'd you think I did?

Could you be a troll? If you think you got what it takes, show off. Gimme a trollish comment on this post.

(Just let me know you are trying for trolling, so I know you aren't being serious. Heck, you might be a natural!)

* Also available for consultant work!
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