All (both) of those who read this blog, accurately consider my [writing] beyond reproach. I have worked very hard to gain your [trust], providing only [the utmost] in journalistic integrity. It is not by accident that the quality of every post on this blog is rivaled only by the great literary masterpieces. In fact, even some of those would not be able to keep pace for long with the archives of March 2007, let alone the sum of the great work that defines these hallowed electronic pages.
Like [anything worth doing], my decision to uphold a certain standard has made my task all the more difficult. The cost to me and my family has been more than I could have ever imagined. Maintaining [professional, honest commentary], complete with inexplicable brackets thrown in occasionally is [a challenge] that few will ever accept. Well I have accepted it and I have done so with great eagerness and humility. I have held close my values as my family has stood by me. Through the various attempts to bribe, blackmail, coerce or otherwise corrupt me, I have stood tall. I have never boasted about my greatness, I have just quietly achieved it with the sort of grace typically reserved for The Mother Goose fairy tales (more on that later).
Anytime one ascends to my level, there is the unavoidable perception amongst the masses that a hero exists in the midst. As soon as one’s greatness is apparent, the citizenry will understandably cling to this person for a moment's respite from an otherwise meaningless existence. Let me just say up front, I’m no hero (which I’m sure you realize are the words only a true hero could utter). It is because of the love and support of my family that I’m able to face and survive these daily trials. Without my wife and 2.5 kids, I’m nothing. I’m a hollow tin man that one might attach to a holiday conifer of some sort. Where the hell is my thesaurus?
Do I deserve their unquestioning loyalty? Yesterday I would have said “Hell[s] yes.”
Today? “No, [not] really.”
Allow me to explain …
It is with great pain that I give you the following post. I don’t take this decision lightly. I’ve been faithfully posting my heart out on this blog for upwards of (I have no idea how long) years, and have stuck to my guns with unwavering resolve. When others were fleeing for the hills, I turned to face the heavens and fearlessly cried “Bring it!” And as many (both) of you know, it was indeed “brought’n” on many occasions. Did I cower in submission to the seemingly imminent defeat? Did I ever once take the easy way? I don’t think so. Through all the rough patches, I have refused to lower my standard to go for the “cheap laugh.” I’d sooner poop my pants in a thunderstorm. Oops. Anyway …
I find the current temptation too great for even one as strong as me to resist. Unfortunately, my star rose in an age where heroes are routinely exposed as cheats, murderers, pit-bull owners, smokers, etc.
With each new revelation of another fallen hero comes a further hardening of the community heart, until all we’re left with is a four-chambered hunk of stone, mechanically pumping ice-cold liquid death through our apathetic veins (Oh, there’s my thesaurus) hoping to find someone we can believe again.
Then came this simple blog. Unassuming at first. A place where a working man could find refreshment after a long day at the salt mines or wherever the hell he’s been all day. A celebration of all that is good in the world. A symbol of that which cannot be owned by the big corporations or shaped by the whims of the insolent masses.
These days, a blog is about commercialization. It’s the stuff of cold calculative bean counters, number crunchers. Don’t give me your opinion, Cube! I want the bottom line! Artistic expression and personal opinion are old-fashioned. This is the age of surveys and polls. Tell us what you’d like to hear and that’s what we’ll say. It makes me sick.
This is what makes this so much harder for me. But I’m tired. Perhaps I’ve fought too long. Maybe the road was tougher than I imagined. Maybe it was foolhardy to think a small town kid like me, head full of clichés, could stand where so many others have faltered. Lance Armstrong is selling performance enhancing drugs on CNN’s web site for God’s sake! How am I, a naïve kid from Nebraska to come through unscathed? I’ll tell you. I’m not. Well, it has been quite a ride, n’est pas?
Hopefully, you can forgive this transgression. I can no longer resist the temptation to pander. The people have spoken. I can no longer ignore my readers’ demands. At the risk of losing the faithful, I now write to the googlers:
Hey Googlers ! Howzit goin! I know, right!? Sorry about all that Blah blah blah above. It’s for a contest I’m in. Don’t worry about it.
Now let’s get this party started! Whoop Whoop!
I just want to give a shout out to my people in the great city of Toronto! Yaay! Canada effin’ rocks!!
If I hadn’t checked my blogger statistics, I would not have seen that you were on google searching for “How to face paint farm animals” which naturally brought you to my site.
Well let me tell you, friend … You came to the right place.
As you can well imagine, I know all about farm life being a Nebraskan. Nebraska is right next to a state called Iowa, where there are lots and lots of farms. I’m sure most big-city types would wonder why in the world anyone would want to put lipstick on a pig. Oh shit – sorry everyone in the world that I’m such a sexist. I meant to say – why anyone would want to face paint a farm animal. But if Canada is anything like Iowa (and I’m sure it is) you’re always looking for fresh new ways to make your farm animals look, uh, prettier. The first three things you have to know are foundation, foundation, foundation. Next, you’ll want to find a good … Ahh! A vampire! Help, shim, please.
and scene ...
Now that's what I call a good vampire movie.