No one cares about your stupid blog

An open letter to the guy talking about his blog...

    I apologize for having not remembered your name though we met but a few short minutes ago. It seems however that your given name, at least in my corner of the universe, is now obsolete. For you are now immortalized in my mind as the dipshit that believes everyone else wants to hear about his blog.

I must admit that when I was first invited to this birthday party I half expected to be cornered by at least one blow hard and subjected to several minutes of undereducated opinion spouting as I seem to be a magnet for doltery. However, following a silent exchange of knowing glances with my fellow party goers, we agreed that you would NOT be poaching the smooth flow of conversation and wrangling it suite your ego. 

                                                                             Teamwork

       With all the subtly of being slapped in the face with a dear carcass, you have brought up on three occasions, make that four occasions, that you write a blog. I have also gleaned that it may have something to do with cooking, or restaurants, or food. I will now give an appreciative nod to the African American woman to my left who just changed the subject from jalapeno poppers, to breast cancer. Write a blog about that you dink.

     I have been told that in times of great need strangers will band together to overcome incredible odds. In this analogy, you are al qaeda attempting to steer your jet into the world trade center of our conversation. The rest of us are at ground zero, united in the effort to contain your pontifications.

     Now admittedly, I am fairly new to having a blog and I can understand your enthusiasm. Having a blog is like having a new toy that you want to show off to all of the other kids. I also understand the importance of grass roots advertising, especially in the world of blogging. After all, you do not get a lot of walk up business in the blogosphere. That being said, you are acting like a cock. 

                                                                  Not that kind

     My issue is not with your product, but with your presentation. You see, if I were to discover that my farts cured acne, and I were to bring it up in conversation, glanced at a pimply teen then asked if the afflicted would care for a free sample of my pore cleansing gas, and received a response in the negative. I would simply drop the topic and move on. I would drop my belt buckle to my shoelaces, and scurry backwards, chasing said young adult round the room pleading, “Come one! Just let me blast in your face once! You'll thank me!”

      This would be a violation of the social contract, and this is where my issue stems from. According to evolutionary psychology, our social interactions have evolved over hundreds of thousands of years. Behavior that is deemed unacceptable, is weeded out, and behavior that is given the thumbs up by society and culture is kept. As recently as 100,000 years ago it is not longer acceptable to drop feces into one's hand and toss it against the wall (at least in most social circles). It seems to me that this is what you have done. Your blog is the feces, and this social gathering is the wall. 

    Yes it may be in poor taste to bag on another bloggers product, especially one I have not yet sampled.  But I submit to you dear reader that this may be one book that we can judge by it's cover.  On a side note, why do we think it is a poor idea to judge a book by it's cover?  Lots of artists have put hard work into producing cover art.  Also, have you ever seen a child molesters mug shot?  Does anyone ever see a pedophile's mugshot and get surprised?

                                      This book should have to notify you if it moves next door

   Seriously, every time a kiddie diddler gets cuffed and stuffed I see their mug on the news and I think to myself, "What stupid parent let that creepo coach 11 & 12 year old volley ball?"  It seems to me like the number one disqualifying question on the application would be, "Are you a man that wants to coach 11 & 12 year old volley ball?" Anyone that is signing up for that job that is not doing so out of genetic obligation is way up on the creepy meter.  I can see someone signing up to coach their own kid as a protective measure, like driving yourself home because your a better drunk driver than your roommate, but that's about it.

  Back to my point. 

In closing, I wish you luck in your future endeavors, I hope that you review the social contract and find the error of your ways and take corrective action.  I also hope that the Mars rover discovers not only evidence of life on Mars, but also evidence of elaborate dance routines performed by the life on Mars.  Perhaps an entire culture that prized the ability to bust a move over the ability to bust a cap.  Where conflict was settled by pop locking and waltzing rather than ninja spin kicks and hand grenades.  I also hope that homeless men will start wearing shirts when they are on the side of the road.  Why do they  have better abs than me? I mean I guess he doesn't have anything else to do all day other than sit ups and pan handling, but seriously dude, put a shirt on.