I set out today to write a scholarly thesis that is based on the hypothesis that, since vaginas look like clams and testicles look like walnuts, the only possible conclusion is that the origins of all of humankind lie in an Indian Casino all you can eat buffet somewhere in Botswania.
But my spirit is failing and my heart simply pounds, filled with the overbearing sorrow that can only come from a heartfelt revelation of the truth: my blogging sucks and there is no hope for me, unless you, my colleagues and peers, help me to crawl out of the muck of my own miserable and grandiose self delusions concerning my writing abilities.
As a result of recent revelations about my sucking blogging, I have abandoned my greatest scientific breakthrough, ever, and have embarked upon a quest to improve my pitiful position in order to redeem myself in the eyes of the dozens of gushing and loyal people who read and rate my vile extrusions each month.
I have a professional background in general studies and have read under some of the world’s top scholars, most of whom happened to be on top of me at the time, making reading an arduous task, but a neccessary task nonetheless.
My novel, “The Life And Times Of An Amateur Forensic Liquid Nitrogen Accountant” was a best selling sensation among the amateur forensic liquid nitrogen accountants of the world!
The sequel, “Penis Fish” soared to the top of the highly competitive Aldiko free books market!
But I fell onto hard times when my high risk venture into the business of making blankets with sleeves was run into the ground by a merciless competitor who would stop at nothing to dominate the world’s sleeve-blanket markets.
I subsequently lost my ability to read any blog about someone’s schnauzer who left poop on the front stoop where it was picked up by the shoes of the visiting society matrons from the Lobelia Society.
In fact, there are blogs that I regularly read for inspiration and example. They make me break out in hives or have difficulty urinating. That list is far too long to go into here, so let us return to my story, since this is all about me.
I descended into a nightmare of using too many commas. I abused highly addictive drugs such as passive voice, paragraphs that never seemed to end, titles that had nothing to do with the content and pronouncing the word “pseudo” as “psss-suede-doh”.
After a lengthy incarceration in the prison of my own allegedly brilliant mind, I was released to my own recognition and allowed to write blogs that had complicated HTML code. They boasted multicolored text and various fonts for repeating the words “STFU” and “LOL” in over 250 colors!
Still, the readers shunned me. Except, that is, for those who wanted to escort me down to the darkened back alleys of places like WordPress and Blogger, where they would read me the riot act, ravishing my body of work again and again until I could barely put myself back together and skulk amongst the pillars of the blogging world.
And now I have dedicated myself to places like Open Salon and WordPress where the rarified air is shared by people who seem to be breathing through widely opened mouths. Those writers contribute far more moisture to the air than is acceptable for any human congregation, indicating that all of my writing companions are either oversexed or are complete perverts at all times.
I throw myself on the mercy of all who come to my blog in order to snort derisively at the substandard excresences of a complete incompetent who begs for someone to pay attention.
I implore all who thrive here to forgive my mistakes and to give me one more chance before I must be evicted and forced to blog, 140 letters at a time, on Twitter.
Why, that would be worse than being boiled in canola oil or drawn and quartered by a sidewalk portrait artist and his monkey. The monkey would, of course, collect the quarters while flinging feces at my already tattered hems while the artist exaggerates all of my least attractive facial features, creating a drawing so hideous that my last few coins will have been wasted!
I am your most grateful servant,