Desperate To Come Up With A Post To Retain A Few Readers

Having done only one post for the entire month of April—due mostly to a vacation and one trifle after another—I couldn’t wait to get back to doing what it is I truly love and miss most. Working for a living.

ALRIGHT, SO I’M FULL OF IT.

But, I think you’ll understand why I felt that way when I tell you, that upon my return from a recent vacation, I was told by my employers…

THAT IT WAS THEY WHOM I TRULY LOVED AND MISSED MOST.

Naturally, I agreed with them, because they gave me some hush money.

wikivoters.com

wikivoters.com

However, in the weeks since returning home— and falling prey to my employers and their brainwashing tactics, and after washing my mouth out with a high quality bar of soap—I wish to express to you all, that what I honestly loved and missed most, was working on my blog and commenting on your blogs.

HONEST!

Nevertheless, it has occured to me that, maybe some of you were actually GRATEFUL I’d been away, unable to do what it is I truly love and miss most.

Take poor old Herman from Holland, for example; who wrote to tell me how thrilled he was that I was abducted, and never to blog again?

Good old Herman, helped me to realize that maybe I had neglected my blog and all of you, and for far too long. And for what… JUST SO I COULD MAKE SOME MONEY?

Well I felt simply awful, insignificant—and able to pay my bills because of a flush bank account.

Still, horrible thoughts filled my head.

What if Herman (from Holland) wasn’t an isolated case? What if—and I admit it’s only a remote possibility—but what if, there were others who felt the same way about my FORCED absence?

So I immediately began to panic.

Oh I’d had bloggers who abandoned me before, but they were bloggers who had visited my site only ONCE, pressed the like button, only to vanish without ever offering a comment.

Not being one to hold a grudge, I understood these Narcissistic putzes.

Fly by night visitors all. The kind of people who go about reading those lame Huffington Post hyperbole hooks that say something like, “What happens next will terrify you.” Only to click on the site and find themselves staring down the barrel of a Super Soaker.

And this they then proclaim to be… Pulitzer Prize winning material.

Well who needs them! They’re not the kind of visitors I want anyway. Unless, of course, they’re planning on blindly returning to my blog multiple times in the near future.

Then all is forgiven, you fly by night narcissist.

Nevertheless, I was filled with fear and anxiety. The kind of fear and anxiety you feel when you see Dick Cheney walking up your driveway with a rifle wearing a tee-shirt that say’s, “I wanna be your friend.”

Hackwackers.blogspot.com

Hackwackers.blogspot.com

Or the kind of fear and anxiety that fills you with dread when you think; what if Donald Trump really does become President of the United States?

And the same kind of fear and anxiety which drove poor old Herman (from Holland) into hiding…

When he suddenly discovered I’d sent Navy Seals to find him.

Thanks for the horrible postcard, Herman!

Live long and prosper, you dunce. You can run in those clogs of yours—but not very far!

But, back to my immediate problem; What to write about?

I mentioned to my youngest son that I was thinking about doing a post about bloggers who are loyal to a fault.

He responded, “Well dad, I doubt any of you’re readers would want to read about bloggers loyal to something responsible for earthquakes.”

I’ve since decided against asking my youngest son about ANYTHING ELSE. Especially opinions on what to write about—as it is likely to be a total waste of time.

That’s when I had this epiphany—and I’m not even Catholic!

What if I were to do a post on bloggers who continue to ignore the American Medical Associations advice—not to read material found in my attic, as it’s been known to cause irreversible brain damage—and yet they (inexplicably) go on to read my posts, anyway?

Yes, it was a brilliant idea.

Until the heavens opened up, rays of light descended upon me, and I was caught up in the rapture.

Or so I thought, when in fact… I had been abducted by E.T. instead. Thus, ruining a pure moment of blissful genius on my part, and successfully returning me back to my faculties.

And I’m not even a college professor!

Anyway, all of this is just my way of trying to say; that beginning tomorrow—or sometime this year—I’m gonna start gossiping about all of you.

Yeah,and there’s no need to thank me for it—with financial compensation.

And, I’m not going to be gossiping negatively about you, like I have in the past—when I was spreading those horrible lies about you guys.

Nope, no more rumors and innuendos. No more whispering about you guys in the back alley’s, and behind closed doors.

No… I’m going to turn over a new leaf. Hell, I might even start collecting stamps.

And yet, I won’t allow any of that to change my wanting to talk about all of you, in a more positive way.

Now I realize that this move sounds like some kind of bribe on my part. One being attempted by a poor despicable writer, whose blog has only achieved a moderate amount of undue success.

And again you’d be right.

Because this revelation will likely send many of you running out to seek immediate help through electric shock treatments and 12 step programs, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Particularly if it means exposing (I mean exploring) all your wonderful sites.

So just you wait until this weekend folks… because I can’t do anything about it until I get back in town… because my employers have me on a leash.

If only I hadn’t accepted their promise of a steady paycheck. Then I might have tried this act of desperation a little sooner!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My Picture Should Have Been On The Back Of A Milk Carton

incolors.club

incolors.club

I’m back!

Cue the crickets—chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp…etc.

Well as you probably know by now, I’ve been missing for the better part of the last two weeks, but it’s not my fault. I was abducted, lured away—clawing and scratching—out of my attic… by my wife.

“Snookums,” I said “we can’t go on vacation now. What about my blog, my readers?”

“Well, what about em?” she asked, innocently enough.

“They’re going to abandoned me like the plague!” I replied. “You don’t know these people like I do. They’re all about quality writing, and all I have to offer them is this absurd and ridiculous blog. I realize that’s a lousy option, but if you take me away, who will they turn to instead?”

Her response?

“Relax, they’ll barely notice you’re gone. Besides, you know what they say… absence makes the heart grow fonder.” That’s when I knew she was out of touch with reality—because you guys barely tolerate me as it is!

giphy.com

giphy.com

“You don’t understand,” I pleaded, “I have my stats to consider. Why, if it weren’t for that amateur course in hypnotism—the I took for no apparent reason other than to have something to write about for this paragraph—I fear my followers (all of whom can’t explain their love for me) would have left my blog in cobwebs months ago.”

Funny Looooooool, Misha Gif, Boys Gif, Gif It S, Funnt Posts, Candy Hypnosis, Gif Form

Funny Looooooool, Misha Gif, Boys Gif, Gif It S, Funnt Posts, Candy Hypnosis, Gif Form

However, between you and me; I don’t obsess over such things—for more than 14 hours a day anyway—because that would be shallow.

Instead, I protested… and vigorously. “Dumpling, we can’t leave for vacation, not during the height of the WordPress blogging season! Are you mad?”

Okay, so I twisted the truth about the WordPress blogging season—that’s not until next month—but remember, I was doing it for you guys.

Anyhow, after her face reached a bright crimson color—which was immediately followed by steam escaping from her ears—I decided I’d better move onto my next argument… forcefully.

“Dumpling, precious, sweetheart, cupcake… only a blogger with followers numbering in the millions—and capable of producing better material than myself—would ever consider going on a vacation at this time of the year!”

She was having none of it. I was about to be taken—AGAINST MY WILL—to some horribly comfortable resort… complete with swaying palm trees. Dragged there by some 110-pound petite brute.

You can imagine my terror.

“Help me, help me please!” I screamed as she pulled me across the busy airport terminal floor by my ankles onto an awaiting flight. “My wife is taking me away from my readers to go on a vacation.” I screamed, “FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS!”

Nothing. Absolutely no one, not one single person (nor married couple) stepped out of any of those LONG TSA lines.

Thus, I became just another missing person.

It was then I realized—to my horror—that settling for that coach ticket instead of first class—probably did nothing to prevent my abduction to some far off place.

I should have known better. After all, the heavy chain—the one I latched to myself and my laptop—hadn’t work either.

If only I hadn’t left those bolt cutters out—and in plain sight.

Nope, I was doomed. Doomed to go to a place where—despite my vigorous (albeit, impassive) protest—I was forced to lay around a pool like a beached whale. Waited on hand and foot, while powerless to do absolutely nothing but eat, sleep, and go to shows.

It was all I could do to escape my captivity—which happened when the hotel told me that our two-week stay in paradise was over. That is when I learned that my picture had never made it onto the back of a milk carton.

Plus.google.com

Plus.google.com

Leaving me to assume that they felt my rather large nose would only serve to distract from the truth of my absence.

Naturally, I couldn’t believe how the milk companies could leave you—my loyal and faithful readers—sitting there in the dark about my sudden disappearance.

So this post about my abduction became necessary.

Oh, but anyway, Toto, we’re home—home! And this is my blog—and you’re all here (well two or three of you anyway—and I’m not going to ever leave here again (unless I’m offered a seven-figure contract)—because I love you all (except for those of you who failed to return)—And… Oh, Auntie Em, there’s no blog like my own!

My apologies to The Wizard of Oz. Which reminds me… did I tell you how this huge tornado came down and swept me up to this land they call Oz?

Well you see, it all started when I encountered this witch… and well…