Around this time in 2017, I expect to be named the Comeback Blogger of the Year. It shouldn’t be too hard. Everyone is already disappointed with my lackluster social media stats and perilously low internet traffic numbers. I have nowhere to go but up. “Of course he gets no traffic! He refuses to tweet out baseless opinions! He never ‘friends’ anyone. He doesn’t ‘Babbly.’ He doesn’t make use of ‘Follower Wonk.’ What is his ‘Feedly’ handle anyway? He’s got zero ‘Social Clout!’” The list goes on.
Maybe if I used ‘Waze’ more I’d be able to avoid bicycle traffic jams and would have more time to up my social profile, you think. Well guess what I think: up your social profile buddy.
Starting in January I’m going to blog the bejesus out of you and everyone else around. I’m going to blog so much it’ll make your head spin. You’ll be covered in my bloggage from head to toe. I’m going to no-hit your ass, blog-wise. They are going to announce me as a shoo-in for Cy Young of Blogging award. And so forth.
Suddenly, my friends are going to come out of the woodwork. Mook is going to be all “I knew him way back when he wrote a long and boring entry about the Big East.” Howard’s going to fly me to California to party with Taylor Swift. Bob won’t notice because he’s going to be working on putting everyone’s birthday into his iphone so he doesn’t forget to call Howard yet again.
Having said all that, this December I intend to blog in my usual mundane way, so don’t feel like you have to visit for a while.
Soon I’m going to starting tweeting things out, and when I do, heads up. I’m not the kind of person who’s going to tweet small. When I start tweeting, I’m going to be all in, tweeting the living daylights out anything I can get my hands on. If it pops into my head, it’s getting tweeted out, I don’t care what the hell you think.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that failing to tweet out any old crap that occurs to you robs the rest of the world of the ability to know what kind of crap flows into and out of your brain in any given moment. This can mean the loss of valuable data that can never be recaptured. These are the very ideas, entirely unfounded, that you’re one day going to assert as fact, why not tweet them out to see if the public enjoys them?
One thing I’m going to have to do is quit my job, as I expect to be tweeting 24-7-365 in a tweeting blitzkrieg aimed at flooding the market and rendering all other tweeters irrelevant. Except, in all honestly, for sanity I should probably tweet no more than 24-6-361, giving myself Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and July 4th off, plus one day a week so I can worship as I see fit.
May also seek out a robot who can tweet in my stead now and again, whilst driving me around.
Sometimes, I like to go old-school, whether it be by dressing in a leisure suit, or listening to classic rock, or refusing to recycle anything. Sometimes, I’ll go old-school by putting grass clippings out with the rubbish instead of leaving it for compost pickup. Because going old school means keeping it real. And life was more real back in the 1950s anyway, unless you were a woman, or gay, or black. And although I sometimes don’t like to admit it, when people don’t keep it real, I feel robbed. And I believe that not keeping it real has gravely affected the national psyche, which has been on a long and steady decline since about 1776.
Those of you who have been paying attention, I mean really paying attention, are aware of how my research has spurred a new school of old-school thinking, which puts much more emphasis on the old and less on the school. My kids keep telling me that school is overrated anyway, so why not make the new school of thinking about going old-school less school-related.
You know what I’m saying.