Anozer Zession On Za Couch Wiz Za Good Doctor

“Just think, two months ago I was this almost popular blogger with over 12,000 hits. Not even Elvis would have made such a claim—not that he’d ever would have wanted to either. But, I also had fifty fellow bloggers whom I followed on a regular basis—WordPress doesn’t allow for more—dictators.

And, I myself was followed by over 450 other bloggers, none of whom were stalkers—phew, what a relief! However, I will say, that even they couldn’t explain why they followed my blog. But, that’s probably not important, right?”

“So anyway, here I am lying on your couch again, admiring the ceiling tile as if it were the Sistine Chapel—minus the work of Michelangelo, of course.

“Doc? Did you hear me? Doc?”

Must have drifted off again? Does that a lot whenever I’m here. Poor mans gotta be overworked.

Wonder if he dyes his mustache and goatee to match that salt and pepper colored hair of his? And why do therapists always seem to wear small wire rimmed glasses with thick coke bottle size lenses? I’ve got it… they’re born with a pair!

“ZAT VILL DO MY BOY!” That’s Doctor Auguste (pronounced, Ahgoost). My therapist.

Me: Oh hi doc! Thought you’d dozed off again. W a i t  Ah  m i n u t e… you just read my mind! How’d you do that?

Dr. Auguste: I zink zat I am za von who is zuppose to be asking za questions here? Zo I ask you again, vhat brings you into za office to zee me zis time?

Me: My wife. Hey doc, you were out for a long time there?

Dr. Auguste: Vell zat explains who… vate za minute. Vhat do you mean I was out for za long time? How long is za long?

Me: I don’t know.

Dr. Auguste: Now zat I can believe.

Me: About two months.

Dr, Auguste: Oh vell that’s not so… TWO MONTHS!!! Oh for goodness zakes zat is a long time! Vee really haz to do zomezing about zee’s zessions of yours.

Me: Maybe you could try that mind reading trick on me again. You know the one where you try reaching into my subconscious mind?

Dr. Auguste: No, I zeriously doubt zat zat vill verk. You zee, you don’t haz von of zoes.

Me: Oh well. But hey, that’s still a pretty cool trick you have there, doc. How’d you do it?

Dr. Auguste: Vell I didn’t tell “Vienna’s Got Talent” how I did it, zo I zeriously doubt I’ll be telling you how I doz it, eizer. Never za less, zare must be zome reason vie your vife brought you in to zee me? Zink. Vhat reason could she have for vaunting you to zit back on za couch again?

Me: Well, all I know is, for the last two months she’s complained all I ever do is write in my blog. Oh… and read posts from my little friends.

Dr. Auguste: You haz za little friends, too? Zo you zuffer from za leprechauns halluzanations as vell? Zat vood be bad.

Me: No silly. That’s what my wife calls my blogging buddies.

Dr. Auguste: Oh zank goodness. For za minute zare, I zought maybe you really were out of za mind. Zo zen vhat happenz?

Me: Well, she said she couldn’t take it anymore and asked me to take a break from blogging.

Dr. Auguste: And zo you did, right?

Me: Yep, I even staked out a spot on our sofa where during the last two months I drank lots of beer and ate a ton of fast food. Probably expanded my waistline two full sizes!

Dr. Auguste: Yez, zomsing to be proud of for sure.

Me: You know, she’s even complained about me walking around the house in my underwear with only a robe on. My robe barely fits.

Dr. Auguste: I zee, very zexy.

Me: Really?

Dr. August: No. But continue.

Me: Okay. Maybe it’s because I’ve tried to grow an unkempt beard. You think?

Dr. Auguste: Trying? No, yooz already zuczeeded zare. No, I’d zay zare mus be anozer reason vhy she brought you to zee me.

Me: Hey, (SNAP!) I’ve got it!

Dr. Auguste: I only hopes zits not contagious. Vhat?

Me: I think she misses my blog!

Dr August: Are you nuts? Zats just clazy! Nobody mizzes your blog! You mus trust me on zis.

Me: No, no, no she really does miss my blog. She even said so.

Dr. Auguste: She even zaid zo? I zink maybe it’s time she came in and zat on za couch as vell!

Me: But its true doc. Just last week she changed her mind about me taking a break from my blog, and went so far as to beg me to start writing in it again.

Dr. Auguste: Zat is incledable!

Me: Yes. But having not written in my blog in nearly two months I couldn’t think of a single thing to write about.

Dr. Auguste: Ah ha! Zo you are zuffering from za empty-headed zing again! I knew it!

Me: I guess so. But what can I do about it, doc?

Dr. Auguste: Vell, how za about you vite about za very virst zing zat comes into za head.

Me: Oh I’ve already tried that.

Dr. Auguste: And?

Me: And the fly just flew in one of my ears and out the other.

Dr Auguste: And zat left you wiz za buzz?

Me: Yep. But still no idea what to write about.

Dr. Auguste: Vell vee can’t haz zat now, can vee?

Me: Can we!

Dr. Auguste: No. Ozervize, vee haz you in here all za time. No, I zink you haz to start za viting process vite avay.

Me: But how doc, I haven’t a clue what to write about?

Dr. Auguste: Here, I zuggest you try taking za notes from zis zession. Go now, go, go anz vite your next post wiz my compliments!

Me: But doc…

Dr, Auguste: No, no, I inzist. Bezides, I zink za time is up for zis zession. Please check viz my zecratary, Helga. She vill give you anozer appointment… might even be by za next year! Zo, buh-bye until za next year!



Here’s To Exposing My Readers

Welcome everyone. Welcome to the very first day of the “In My Cluttered Attic” bloggers convention! A celebration of those madcap bloggers who crowd into my attic on a regular basis making them the envy of insane asylum inmates everywhere.

(Imagine the applause coming from those padded cells)

I’d like to welcome all of you to the fabulous Caesars Palace here in Las Vegas, Nevada! But I can’t.

BET you didn’t see that one coming?

Yet, thanks to the world of virtual reality (and your imaginations), I can still give you the illusion of being here in Vegas. Just without the fabulous resort hotels, pools, casinos, shows, entertainers, delicious food, and luxury suites that make Vegas…well…Vegas. Otherwise… your practically here!

Now this probably leaves you with a few questions. Like, why am I here? What will I tell my boss when he finds out? Does my family know I’m here? And most of all; is it true what they say, that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?

Well not to worry as none of this is real—at least, not as far as you know. It’s all in your mind, I mean… my mind, or up in my cluttered attic where there appears to be no apparent exits. Not for five days, anyway. Making this… sort of a virtual reality bloggers convention getaway.

Now I realize that for many of you this is probably your first virtual reality trip, and you’re probably thinking to yourself…

“What in the world was I smoking that brought me to this, and how the hell do I get outta of here?”

Ignoring your concerns completely, I’d like to kick off this virtual reality convention by saying—as I look out onto your lovely faces, most of whom are reflecting a look of apoplexy at the moment—thanks to all of you, I actually have a reason to write and do a post today. So let me begin by just saying… thank you.

Now if I could direct your attention over to the gentleman in the second row about five seats in, we’ll get this imaginary convention underway.

You sir, yes you, the one with the bag over your head. That’s right. I singled you out to start this convention, because you’re the only one with a bag for a face.



We’re all about humor here, and…

Bun? Bun Karyudo, is that you? Ladies and gentleman, a nice round of applause if you will for the one, the only… Bun Karyudo!

If only Bun could hear you applauding right now, then we’d all be here for real. But since we aren’t, Bun has to be wondering what that ringing is in his ears.

Bun hails from over at, and regularly engages me in hilarious banter that always leaves you and myself in stitches. Which ridiculously explains my rising medical insurance.

And there—sitting virtually next to Bun—is Allen Colane of the, whose comical insights also frequently leave me rolling in the aisle. Allen, if you would please, help me back up and onto the stage since it’s your fault that I am occasionally on all fours.

Oh look! Taking up the entire first row with all her amazing cats, is my long devoted good blogging buddy, Kate Crimmins, who has been visiting my blog almost from the beginning.

Her blog, is a potpourri of humorous takes on contemporary retired life, consisting of trips to Starbucks, backyard adventures, and how her cats and their distinct personalities impact her and her husband, and their daily life.

And I just have to give a big shout out to the three distinguished looking gentleman in sombreros back there, who are signing autographs. I call them, The Three Amigos.

All three gentleman have made regular pilgrimages to my cluttered attic, and offered kind commentary, right from my very first post on! Yes, I worry for their sanity, too. Still, I can’t thank them enough.

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

Mr. GP Cox at, who nobly reminds us of the sacrifices our men and women in uniform have made on our behalf.

Charles French, who is a voracious, reader, writer, and teacher and who consistently touches on a variety of interesting subject matter.

And my friend actor, comedian, director, and humble god-loving gentleman, Mitch Teemley, who can be found at,

All three gentleman help make writing my posts very enjoyable… and non-profitable.

But they’re not alone responsible for my impoverished state. That’s why, starting tomorrow, I’m thinking of offering merchandise at the door for day two of the In My Cluttered Attic virtual reality convention.

Just think of it. Not only will I continue to recognize and salute more of you on Tuesday (for your regular visits to my blog), but I might even be able to fleece and take advantage of your wallets, credit cards, and life savings, too. That is, if I can get the card skimmers hooked up in time.








No Post Today And It Is Not Open To Debate

This being Friday and all—and the weekend being upon us—WordPress would probably like nothing better than for me to do a post. Someone in Timbuktu once said, “WordPress always benefits whenever ‘The Attic’ goes to post. That is in no way an outlandish statement—see, I am not a politician.

But, as I told WordPress, if Donald Trump refused to do a debate last night because Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly was going to be a moderator, then I couldn’t do a post today! No particular reason, I just like to do and say crazy things because it sets me apart from the rest of the crowd.

And I simply refuse to debate this issue with any fellow blogger, so there.

It’s not like I care for Fox News or Megyn Kelly—I’m more a CNN Erin Burnett kind of guy. No, this is all about not making a point of not having a point to make.

It just so happens that I believe it’s important to do something pointless whenever one is trying not to make a point at all.

Oh, and by the way, if WordPress really wants me to contribute a post to their platform today, they better cough up $5 million dollars to my favorite charity—ME! Talk is cheap, but writing cheap talk with real words is gonna cost me a lot of gray matter.

Also, I’m basically skipping out on today’s post because I think WordPress has been unfair to me of late. They’re always changing their platform around, thus making it more difficult for me to write nonsense like this, which has no bearing on the Presidential campaign, I might add—but I never subtract.

However, if they apologize, I might reconsider coming back and writing something more absurd than this.

So instead of showing up to do a post on WordPress, I’m just gonna go down to the Vets office. See, I want the veterinarian to donate to MY cause as well—the shots for my dog are costing me a mint!

Now I’ve not heard any of my rival blogger’s calling me a bimbo or anything like that. Or that I don’t write real good, or that I don’t make any sense—besides, my writing never makes any cents because I’m a poor sap writing at WordPress. However, I’m sure they’ll be lots of name calling after they get a load of this bull.

All I do know is, I’m the best unpaid writer at my blog, and I’m nobody’s apprentice!

Furthermore, I won’t resort to name calling of any kind—I’ll leave that to ‘The Donald.’ I can’t resort to name calling anyway, I don’t know anyone by name down at WordPress.

And as for any reader out there who might feel offended by my blathering on here? Well, all I’m going to say is; I’ll likely get more views and comments than any of you today.

Why you ask?

Because you’re all gonna be so ticked off at me when I tell you; I only wrote all of this crazy, shocking, controversial stuff as a way of drawing attention to my blog and myself.

You see, I don’t have weird hair like Donald Trump. That’s why I wrote a strange post, in order to stand out from the rest of today’s posts.

How else am I going to get attention if I’m not going to take this blogging thing seriously.








All The Good Subjects To Write About Were Gone

Nothing gets people talking, like what this blog talked about all week long. Nothing. As you probably noticed, no one said nothing about it either, and that’s nothing new. The problem was; I had nothing left to write about, all the good subjects were taken by other blogger’s.

I fear I’ll have nothing to write about for weeks.

Writer’s block can leave you with plenty of nothing to write about. There is nothing more terrifying for a writer to write about, than nothing. Particularly, when everyone else is writing about something. In fact, the only writing I did this last week, was when I wrote comments on other people’s blogs.

Writing comments on subjects other people have already written about is a lot easier, let me tell ya.

Brain-block is a terrible thing, especially when you take up writing a blog. Occasionally, followers come looking for something to read. Its not like when you wrote in some personal journal or a diary. Particularly one that didn’t belong to you.

In those cases no one cares except you, the snoopy mom, the dopey sister, or the ruthless dumb blackmailer who kidnapped your boss in hopes of extorting money from you, or he’d dump your boss in the river—which you let happen, because you didn’t get that Christmas bonus you were counting on.

But a blog…

A blog can open windows, telling you all about people and their personal lives—which is often better than eavesdropping on them. Or about their pets—and possibly more than you ever wanted to know about their personal lives…especially their sex lives.

Blogger’s also write poetry, good and bad… and much worse than bad—”See Rex, see Rex run, see Rex run for fun. Run Rex, run, run, run.” Some blogs, are by unpublished authors talking about books they’re going to write—and never finish…or get published.

Then, they’re the blogs about traveling to places—you can’t afford to go see. Comics—by people with more talent than you; hobbies and crafts—again, by people with more talent than you; Photography—by photographers more gifted than you; and movies and television—by people with more money than you!

Then there’s me—the blogger with no post. Because, they’re no subjects left worth writing about.

Oh sure, the blogging community left me a few boring subjects I considered toying with. But, they’re the rejects. Subjects, that no other blogger would dare touch with a 12 inch keyboard. Riveting material that could lead to post titles like:

“Aunt Hester’s gall-stone surgery and her sister, Bertha’s, bunions.” How’s that for a Stephen King wanna-be’s poorly written horror novel post? “My work”—good for two or three words, maybe a complete sentence!

Or, I could write about, “Sleeping Habits of the Sandman deprived Narcoleptic.” Oh here’s a good one,  “Small Talk and the Weather…conversation starters that won’t get you noticed.” And finally, “How Facebook allowed—Big Jim Martin, my next door neighbor—into last nights nightmare.”

No…I think the good subjects are all gone folks.








A Top Secret Post For The Best Blog Readers…In My Price Range

Highly confidential stuff.

Highly confidential stuff.

The following is a top secret post, visible only to “Attic” readers using the secret decoder ring hidden in my last post.


This post is visible to EVERYONE, even to the dummy who wrote it. And no, he didn’t include a secret decoder ring in his last post—otherwise we’d have one too, along with the last golden ticket from Willy Wonka! We realize this was a horrible thing to wake-up to, but it couldn’t be helped, because it went totally viral!

Anyway, we now return you to this dummy and his ridiculous post.


Welcome readers to the first “In My Cluttered Attic” super secret meeting of the (cluttered) mind. As you know by now, I struggle (every other day or so) to write a post in a timely manner. Say nothing of reading, commenting, and pressing blogger friends buttons (Uh, LIKE buttons) in an expedient fashion.

For my friends who blog about poetry, writing, art, photography, or making money—obviously this blog is not about any of those themes, or I’d have a bank account loaded with cash by now—this post is for you.

I wrote this post, to say thanks to all of you for reading my award winning humor—unworthy of a paying publication. rejected

I am aware that some of you—like my friend Donna over at have followers numbering in the hundreds, unlike myself (as I have depleted my bank account in an attempt to bribe you into following me). But there is a very good reason why Donna has so many followers. She offers insightful writing——while I continue to scribble…lots of drivel.

Still, I’m grateful to all of you who follow me, whether hundreds are following you or just dozens, possibly explaining why fewer of you are following me—but that could lend an air of truth to MY slogan, “The most impossible to find blog on the entire internet.”

Some of my former readers strayed from the light known as “My Attic” (almost immediately), at the possible risk of being contaminated. Take my friend Stephanie for example over at who apparently felt making scads of money in her spare time, was infinitely superior to making no money from reading my blog.

I know, go figure, right?

Of course, she’s brilliant and that’s why I find reading her writing not only enlightening, but entertaining too. Not to mention that by reading what she has to say, I may yet learn the art of closing the deal.

parisAlso, I go to great lengths to respond to my readers who take the time to comment on my blog. Once, I even tried consulting the DMV in an attempt to reach one of my many fans, Paris Hilton (well that’s who she said she was). And for that the FBI issued me a cease and desist order?

I am all too aware of the daily risk that threaten to push our love of writing onto a back burner. Why at this very minute, some sadistic fiend out there, is likely cooking up some similar (hairbrained) scheme for my site to meet a similar fate—in hopes that this blog will somehow go up in flames!

To that I say… does anyone hear sirens?  smoke

Some folks have asked me, “Paul (because that’s my name and I don’t answer to Jack) how do you keep bloggers on your payroll…uh…blogroll?”

Well I’ll tell you. Simple… I click follow.

Take for instance, my friend, Susannah from she offers daily insights on events she see’s happening in the Big Apple, and then there’s my friend, Kate at who not only loves her cats, but who I also suspect believes I’m on something.

Thank goodness, neither of these fine ladies have ever been able to prove that—YET.

Likewise, there’s my Canadian partner (currently on summer camp assignment—no doubt with some moose), Paul residing over at and my other good pal, George who is not from Canada, but who I enjoy all the same at (they complete one half of the group known as “The Beatles”  although, neither of them have a Beatles haircut) nevertheless, both of them have hung on my every word, and because of it… could lose their grip on reality any day now.

This should clearly demonstrate (to skeptics and anyone named,Thomas) my undeniable appeal to the rich and famous.

However, it is virtually impossible to list all the bloggers whose writing, comments, and photos would add joy to anyone’s day, say nothing of my own. Yet, you just knew I was gonna try (Inhale).

Other visiting friends to my outpost on the WordPress prairie, have even been known to occasionally contribute (occasionally?) witty comments or humorous banter to my blog, and include in no particular order;

Jan at a skilled writer and friend, or my extremely talented pal, Jodi at and further artistry comes from that far out there, Sarah at and then there’s the hilariously gifted, Allen at or the extremely fun and skilled  Johanna at and don’t forget another friend, Sarah from and all these folks offer their own special brand of humor and artistic skills—for the enjoyment of others.

I still benefit though—in spite of that.

Did I mention the amazing, Susie (and she truly is) at who will certainly keep you busy and inspired by her energy, and zest for life? Or how about my ever tortured friend, Sandi at who puts up with me. I have another friend (oh yes!), John at who helps me with my seriously lacking artistic endeavors. Also, another dear (Canadian) friend, Dale at who reminds me of what we can lose, and still we can carry on with hope. There’s my Lily (hi Lil!) at who has lavished me with high praise which I can’t resist soaking up. And one horrible omission on my part (at least initially, but in serious need of inclusion, as he has been with me from the very beginning), Occraz who just happens to be very funny in his own right. And GP Cox who not only helps us remember all those who have served, but who have sacrificed for our freedom. Thank you GP.

No, of course I’m not done yet. I have to tell you about Sarah (Yes another Sarah. What, you got a problem with that name? Well I should say not, or you’ll face the wrath of Choppy…who is totally harmless) at and then there’s, Jay whose fabulous movie reviews (don’t leave for the theater without them) will leave you ready for the multiplex at and the beautiful Melanie from who never gives up on life, and my friend, Tessa at both these ladies always press relentlessly forward.

There is the very funny (okay, bitter) Ben at and noted comic writer, Austin from who inspires me. And my delightful friend, Juls at who happens to be Irish like me, but who is actually from the UK.

I have sensitive, but no less important friends who visit me. For instance, Elle at and a wonderful poet, who I prefer to call, Chocolate at and another couple of friends who also write great poetry, Barrira at and Kritika at at  and simply must mention,Tricia and Ben at who demonstrate real fortitude in life. Scott at with his fantastic flair for family humor will leave you in stitches—and he’s not even a surgeon!

I have intellectual bloggers too who I can’t leave out of “My Attic” like Joseph at or the lovely Aquileana from and the equally lovely and funny, Mindy at and of course I claim another math wiz (like Joseph) a WordPress favorite of mine… who impresses me no end.

Then there is the real deal (no not in poker), Mitch from the well written Mike at and the equally well written Charles from plus the erudite Eric at or the wonderful Raymond from and the not to be missed or the never to be forgot—my idol and mentor—the great Paul Johnson, whose alter I worship, at which I’m certain is located somewhere in, China.

weekendThis could have taken you all weekend to read, and I knew you didn’t have time for that. But, I hope you’ll see what I was trying to say to all of you wonderful people—many of whom I failed to mention because if I’d tried, I might still be here until 2096!

But, for those of you whom I didn’t mention—because some of you who I read, don’t even try to read my blog, or even care that I write—please know that you never go unnoticed by me for taking that precious amount time out of your very busy day—in order to make my day better.

And for those of you who do read my blog, I can’t thank you enough for ignoring actor Steve Martins Blog in favor of mine —he’s so jealous.

I wanted to let all of you know how much I wish I could read each and every post you publish, followed by me pressing the like button on your various posts after commenting on them. Unfortunately, this is not humanly possible. Which is also why I have applied for super hero status to be granted to me.

I know you crawl around “In My Cluttered Attic” in hopes of finding something entertaining to read, and all I do is reciprocate with silliness. So, I feel this thank you is hardly adequate for all the knee problems you’ve suffered on my account. However, I’m very popular with orthopedic surgeons!

You certainly deserved an honorable mention here, but I hope you’ll all settle (out of court) for this incredibly shrinking list of survivors from my blog instead. These are only some of the folks who have visited my blog on multiple occasions (and perhaps numerous mental health professionals as a result), and are now counted among the walking dead. As more of you are discovered I will add you to the list. Believe me when I say, I was once wracked with enormous guilt:…/https:

Now, would someone please be kind enough to call an ambulance…I think there is a good chance I should go to the hospital for being so long-winded! (and…exhale).

If It Isn’t Fixed, Don’t Break It

keep up

I love writing, and no doubt you feel the same way about it or you wouldn’t be here. And the thought of writing for dollars, euros, yen, or even the drachma—should it ever make a comeback (which could be any day now)—is a love close to my wallet—and all our bank accounts.

But, there are those among us—hard as it is to believe—who would have us not write at all?

Take my employers for instance. Why, they’ve gone so far as to offer me a bribe to stop writing about what I find funny. They call it a job, but I call it blackmail. It was like they were saying, “Don’t take time to write about anything that strikes your fancy.”

Well, the last time something struck my fancy I was distracted on the court, and that was a tennis ball. Why I would ever want to write about an incident that caused me so much pain, is beyond me. After all…I’m a writer of humor, not a writer about a pain in the…well you know where.

They even went so far as to suggest, that if I were to get busy working on something other than writing about what tickles my fancy (it was hardly a tickle, let me assure you) there might even be a little money in it for me. Hush money no doubt, and likely under the table. They kept referring to it as a paycheck.

Why it boggles the mind the lengths some people will go to in order to prevent us from writing.

Take WordPress, for example. They felt it necessary to sneak in a few changes while I was away. Guess they thought I wouldn’t notice. But, I didn’t recently fall off the planet, I’ve been gone for quite a while.

But, low and behold after only being back a week (because I’m very observant) I realized WordPress had created a whole new reader, and I feel just like one too (a new reader that is).

Being technologically challenged, I was just starting to get the hang of the old reader (not really, but at least I was functional). So the last thing I needed after some R & R was a new challenge—or any challenge for that matter.

Don’t worry though, I’m not going to go into all the unnecessary, non-hassle free changes with the new reader—no, my take on WordPress trying to complicate an already perfectly fine reading process in the first place, will come later—in the tabloids.

At least that way, they (WordPress) will be able to read all about it at their local checkout stand. Its simpler that way, unlike their new complex reader.

Besides, I figure many of you have complained enough already, and I have NOTHING NEW to offer you on the subject—something some of you feel my blog already offers. And don’t you deny it, Sam from Nebraska, as I have your nasty little letter right here!

At least my post has alerted you to the nefarious forces at work, trying to obstruct my ability to write to you on a regular basis. But, rest assured good followers, Sam from Nebraska, and these other ne’er do wells, will not keep this scribe from his appointed post.

Now where did I put my laptop?

The Writers Cloak Of Invisibility


You love writing, you do it every chance you get. Bathroom stall graffiti… no problem. Scribbles on the blank wall of a public building? You bet, maybe even in color. Autographing someones yearbook… uh… without their knowing it? Sure!

Writing, it’s what you love, it’s what you do. Then along comes someone who says, “You’ll never be a writer.”

Naturally, you’re devastated. But, then who wouldn’t be, right?

Well you for one, because you realize just how stupid that individual was. And so to make sure this person doesn’t make that mistake again… you spray paint what a great writer you’re going to be, all over their forehead.

Still they’re not impressed. But writing consumes your life and a writer you will be.

You think back to how it all started. Your mom and dad bought you crayons to draw pictures and write the alphabet with. The bedroom wall became your stationary. You thought; “Why waste paper?” Soon you branched out to living rooms, kitchens, and ultimately… the bathrooms.

Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Dr. Seuss were your mentors. You tried to let them know this by writing in the margins of their books. Okay, so the librarians weren’t impressed, but that didn’t matter, because you’re a writer.

Soon you graduated to writing love letters—to every bill collector who ever requested money from you. The collection agency’s became enamored with your masterful use of profanity. You know this, because they kept sending you more statements of their affection.

You reasoned that they must have thought, “What a magnificent four letter vocabulary you have.”

Publishers couldn’t wait to get their hands on your manuscripts—they just didn’t know how. This might explain why none of your manuscripts ever get rejected.

Your skill at writing also extended to writing on other peoples hands; particularly girls you wanted to date. “For a good time, call me.” That’s when you discovered girls didn’t know how to use the phone. What other possible reason could there be for your phone not ringing?

Then you started a personal journal.

Although, your sister never fully appreciated you reading her diary, you were comfortable in the knowledge that she loved the funny remarks you left behind! Why else would she scream (literally) about it to mom and dad?

Finally, your writing was getting noticed.

How could you not be a good writer, especially when all your teacher’s used to say “I want you to write, on the board ‘I will not write (with permanent marker) on my fellow classmates new clothes’ 100 times each.”

Then came the internet. Google! The world was about to become your oyster.

This thought seemed pretty funny to you at the time (but to no one else) since it had absolutely nothing to do with your writing—but you couldn’t resist putting it into this post anyway.

The magical day was at hand. The one when you discovered, you could start a blog—and it was absolutely free! You were impressed… even if WordPress wasn’t.

Now you could spread all your pearls of wisdom (yeah right) before swine—although, why you would ever want to spread your writings before a bunch of non-reading pigs is still a question, not to mention other ne’er-do-wells—instead of reaching out to the more intelligent readers out there…

Like those who watch foreign movies for the subtitles.

Yes, you’ve finally become what you were always meant to be; a virtually invisible, disrespected, unpaid grammatical menace to readership around the world. And even more inexplicably; better writers, seemed to have fallen under your spell!

Which is why you now wear the cloak of invisibility.  You also get to wear it with pride—because you’re the only one who has one!

Not Just Another Bloggers Conference

Jasper T. Fullofit

Jasper T. Fullofit

Have you ever attended a bloggers conference? If you have, I hope you received more quality insights about blogging than at the one I recently was forced to attend.

Now if you happened to be among the poor folks who attended the “In My Cluttered Attic” bloggers convention this past weekend (pity us); held in Cognito, Patagonia then you were one of the lucky ones—who hopefully got away. patagonia

If on the other hand, you were unable to escape (hope you weren’t a quadriplegic who got an invite), then you certainly got an earful of mumbo jumbo which would be in keeping with the remote South American language.

Now I couldn’t say for sure—because most of us had blindfolds on at the time—but I felt our being lined up with our hands tied behind our backs, and being given a lit cigarette to dangle off of our lower lips, may have well added to our sense of foreboding.

The keynote address on the inherently dangerous subject of blogging, was delivered by none other than the eminent scholar (in some other field… probably an open one), Jasper T. Fullofit.

He’s the president (no, not that president) and CEO (corporate-imbecile with an E-out to lunch officer) of, In My Cluttered Attic. Apparently “The Attic” spared no expense in getting him and it showed in the lack of valuable information imparted by the nincompoop.

He blathered on for hours and hours before he got to the point—of no return to sanity that is. Then the dunce finally said something moronic enough (what a surprise!) that would actually have brought the crowd to its feet to leave—were it not for the lack of the use of our lower limbs due to sitting for so long.

Yet, we were forced to endure more mindless prattle (due to being strapped to porta-potties) about how being a blogger can lead to writing a more legible grocery list, and even amusing graffiti on the walls of bathroom stalls.  grafitt

Not once in the entire time, however, did we hear how blogging might lead a writer to profiting from a book or novel (self-published or otherwise). Although, that would have been a novel concept. novel

Instead, we were treated to (try tortured with) drivel, about how tedious (like his discourse was) blogging can be.

He stated (droned on and on) over and over, that for any blogger to consider themselves successful, they must daily check to see how many button pushers  desperate for more followers (or readers who loved what you wrote), actually checked the like box at the bottom of your post.

Mr. Fullofit also urged us to reply to the dolts (I think he meant people of character who actually read your post), because you need them to come back in order to pad your stats.

He further stressed (threatened), that we must not ONLY write something back to them— even if it’s out of guilt (again, I think he meant sincerely respond)—but also go and look at the pictures on (or sincerely read) their blog in order to avoid to avoid being classified as shallow.Only then, he added, might they might add you to their blogroll.

Before we could leave we were forced to buy his new book, “How Attending a Bloggers Convention Can Make You Rich.” Just between you and me, I think the mans a shyster.

All in all, though, it would have been just another lost weekend in the jungle (or total waste of time), were it not for the gift of dysentery I contracted during my escape.

jungleAll because I refused to buy his book.