Must Love Blogs


Must Love Blogs, The Musical
Cat: I see by your outfit you are a blogger.
Dog: I see by your outfit you are a blogger, too.
Both: We see by our outfits we are both bloggers.
Both: If you get an outfit you can be a blogger, too.

The scene takes place at the airport. Two younger gorgeous people are doing the I’m-late-for-my-flight routine and comically bump into each other at the same counter when their flights are canceled. What are the odds?

It turns out they know each other. What are the odds? They recognize each other. What are the odds? They go back to those hard, little uncomfortable seats and show each other their devices. (You can’t make this up.)

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a blogger.” He says it like its the most interesting thing in the world.

“That is so crazy and weird, because I’m a blogger, too!”

Instantly their love “goes viral.” Naturally. I mean, what are the odds? Two bloggers? In the same airport??? In a country of 311 million people?????? Where only 300 million actually pump out “content” on a regular basis? (Incidentally, that leaves absolutely no one with enough time to actually read this shit.)

Trudeau: Alright, we’ve got a body in the morgue that seems to have died twice. Assuming it’s not a computer error, what do we assume?
John McClane: That somebody’s about to seriously fuck with this airport.
Trudeau: What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, I know we’re dummies up here, McClane, so give us a little taste of your brilliant genius! I mean, you talking about a hijacking, a robbery or what?

Hell, the only people who don’t blog are those brain dead in comas and the White family from the Appalachian Mountains of Boone County, West Virginia. And those folks already have video biographers following them around 24/7.

In a world where even three-year-olds have blogs is it really that amazing that two bloggers should meet in an airport? Did I ask you about the odds? Is that really a story worth telling?

The two bloggers get so excited about it all that they sprint through the airport like O.J. Simpson hopped up on Red Bull. Until …

WTF? They run into a new Sears refrigerator? Just sitting there? Out on the concourse?

I had suspension of disbelief going on but this is just too much. Unbelievable! I mean, how in the hell did a refrigerator get past the Transportation Security Administration’s screening agents?

The point is: I love blogs.

When you turn on your computer and fire up the internet, what is the default page it opens up to? Google? Bing? CNN? FOX News? (Gah.) The Pioneer Woman? Fark? Your favorite porn site?

For me, it’s Freshly Pressed on (Which, strangely enough, is not visible to people outside of the WordPress world. It’s a blogger-only kind of thing.) I love blogs. If you must love blogs, and I love blogs, does that mean I can star in a movie?

Oops. The shit just went sideways.

Oops. The shit just went sideways. Blogger on blogger action.

By far my favorite thing to read on the internet is the words written by other ordinary people. Real people, just like me. They’re not the MSM (mainstream media) and not driven (usually) to further a manufactured artificial narrative.

They’re motivated to say what they want to say. And, to me, that is intoxicating. What’s their opinion on pizza? I want to know! How to make cookies? What the hell, I’ll read that, too. A hard core rightie telling the world vehemently how everything I believe totally sucks? Awesome. Sign me up!

I love blogs. And, I guess, that’s why I write one, too.

One of the many people I follow is Heather over at the I’ll be waiting / with a gun and a pack of sandwiches blog. She had a very interesting perspective on anonymous blogging (which I is one) and gave me a lot to think about.

Why do I do this? Stay anonymous while taking shots at everybody and everything? A deep question with no easy answers. No doubt it’s because I’m a bit narcissistic and want a little attention and maybe even a bit of celebrity. It also has to be part therapy. Bitching about the stuff I see that pisses me off, blowing off steam, must be helpful in some way. Especially when I can get someone to join in and pretend to empathize. Misery loves company.

But I also think it’s fun. It’s definitely fun for me and, hopefully, fun for you. I like to think I’m a fungi and, truth be told, my ultimate function is that of entertainer. That’s why I often stand alone out in the sand of the coliseum, spit at your, throw my sword in your direction, and shout with all the anger I can possibly muster, “Are you not entertained?”

Hopefully I’m doing something right. As far as site traffic goes I just enjoyed five months in a row of reaching my modest monthly goal. That’s a new all-time record. Perhaps I’m like a sneaky virus and starting to catch on. Tell a friend!

I hope you’ll find this movie as heartfelt and touching as I did. Quick! Somebody hand me a hankie!

And now a musical interlude for a dramatic change of pace from the opening text:

7 responses

  1. From on AB (anonymous blogger) to another…you’re just my type.


    1. Aw, thanks. And my favorite type is O negative. Just an FYI.


  2. Aw, Tom…
    You’ve gone all softhearted and mushy!
    Santa has seen and logged it on his “Nice” list. I know- he blogged about it, somewhere around here….


    1. Ho ho ho! Did you not see the atomic explosion, little girl? Ho ho ho! Literally a romantic comedy to die for!

      Me and Santa are not on speaking terms.


  3. I’m with you. I love hearing the stories – the funny, the sad, the pain and pathos, the joy and sorrow.
    And I’m also with you on the anonymous.
    But I really hope you know that any illusions we have of anonymity are illusions.
    But I’m pretty sure you do.

    And Smothers Brothers!


    1. I hear ya. I know I’m not truly anonymous, not from the Google or the long arm of the law. But hopefully anonymous enough to protect me against getting fired.

      Did I hear you had a birthday the other day? The blog-o-sphere was abuzz about it. Happy happy!


      1. Why thank you, Shouts!


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