Bloggy McBlog Blog

It’s another long hard day of being the KING OF THE BLOGGERS. You don’t understand the difficulties, you may think you do, but you do not. You think it’s easy being the King, you think if you were the king you would just sit around and be fed RIPE OLIVES by RIPE CONCUBINES whose bodies press pleadingly against their I-Dream-Of-Jeanie style pajamas. You might think that BUT YOU WOULD NOT BE RIGHT IN YOUR THINKING. YOUR SUPPOSITION WOULD BE ERRONEOUS because of its falseness.

It’s hard hard work. The constant pressure. The world demands so much from me. No one else is asked to do the things I am asked to do. No one else has to work as hard as I do on this BLOG.

I visited Little Timmy in the hospital again. He was lying wrapped in bandages, IVs in all his appendages, his eyes taped open to keep him from blinking which COULD KILL HIM.

“Oh, Mr. Bloggy,” He said. “Mr. Bloggy, could you do a blog post for me? The doctor says I may be dying.”

“The doctor should know Timmy, you shouldn’t doubt him. He worked very hard to get where he is, supported at every step of the way by the generous and selfless work of America’s great health insurance companies WHICH ARE THE ONLY THING STANDING BETWEEN US AND STALIN’S TANKS!”

“But could you do the blog post for me?”

“Timmy, it just doesn’t work like that. I can just ‘do’ a blog post. I have to write it, it has to be written, it has to be made up out of words. I can’t just do that for you. I have to do it for the whole world. Because the whole world needs me, the whole world needs my blogging. Not just one sick little boy, but so many sick little boys. And girls, so many girls.”

“I understand Mr. Bloggy.”

“I’m glad you understand, because Timmy there’s nothing you or I can do about it. We just have to keep being who we are. You have to be a pathetic sick little boy, at least for a little while longer, when you may stop being a little boy rather abruptly. And I have to keep being Bloggy McBlogBlog, the KING OF THE BLOGGERS.”

New York, NY — This is the price we pay for freedom: The Constant DEATH of Celebrities like Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett and Ed Macmahon. If this was North Korea they’d all still be alive and maybe we’d be happier for it.

New York, NY — I clicked on some things today and did I ever get a shock! The internets are full of crap!! CRAP!!! I had no idea. I’ve been struggling so hard, trying to make the internets better as I should since I am the KING OF THE BLOGGERS, but apparently dozens and dozens of other people have been struggling to FILL THE INTERNETS WITH CRAP! I can only imagine the time and effort that has gone into creating all this crap, and the expense of posting it all on the internets. WHY DO THEY DO THIS! Can’t they just leave old cars on their lawns? Why must they inflict their crap on the poor internets?
For instance, there is a web site with videos on it. There must be hundreds of videos. A video of prisoners dancing in A PRISON! A video of Ninjas dancing in A LINE! A video of prisoners IN A PRISON dancing IN A LINE!!!! And there are other videos. Many many videos. Someone must have hired these ninjas. It’s a colossal waste. And yet I can not write even a small check to pay for things at the grocery store because sometimes there is no money in my bank account WHEN THEY TRY TO CASH THE CHECK! How do I know when they will try to cash the check. Must I make sure there is always money in my account? Should I just keep money there just in case maybe today they will try to cash the check? What about tomorrow or the day after that? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT, I ASK YOU?
And yet, if I come home from the store with no groceries I am blamed for that too. I can NOT win! And yet I am KING OF THE BLOGGERS! But there are no dancing ninjas on my site, so some people will ask, how can you be the king if on your site there are no dancing ninjas. On this other site there are dancing ninjas, but on your site, none or almost none. And how about fat lesbians? Can I see dancing fat lesbians dancing in a line in prison on your site? NO YOU CAN NOT!!! Those are bad things that should not be on the internets. No one wants to see that. NO ONE WHO I WANT COMING TO MY SITE! Please do not come here if that is the sort of thing that you want to see.
What will happen when the internets are full of crap? When there is nothing but crap on the internets? We will go to web sites full of crap. We will get crap in our e-mail. We will read crap and look at crap all day long. It will be a LIVING NIGHTMARE that we CAN NEVER HOPE TO AWAKEN FROM!!!! What will we do then?
Will we turn to Bloggy McBlog Blog and say, “Oh, now that the internets are full of crap can you please help us, even though when you were suffering and working so hard for us and for the good of the internets we didn’t do anything nice for you, even though we probably could have?” Is that what we will do?
I won’t be unforgiving. I will do my best. I will try to help. But by then the years of work will have worn me down. My natural good looks will have been replaced by haggardness. I will have unsightly blemishes. I will be unable to control my bladder. More unable. But people will come to my home. Just to be near me. They’ll lean close as I speak in a husky whisper about what can still be done to save the internets. They’ll sit at my feet as I blog, able to type only one or two sentences an hour, and that only if someone helps me press the keys all the way down. They’ll say how terribly terribly sorry they are that they didn’t bring me lunch or a dozen donuts or something when I was hungry back in the past, which IS NOW because I am talking about the FUTURE!!! But then there will be nothing that can be done about what they didn’t do now, because it will be TOO LATE!!!!
Oh, the crap, the crap!!! What will we do?

New York, NY — No, I will not be your president.

New York, NY — Imagine if the elephant in the room was an actual elephant. And you really couldn’t talk about it. And what if the room wasn’t even that big? Could you talk about the elephant poop? What if you just said poop and didn’t mention the elephant? “Look out for the unspecified poop!”
And what are the circumstances under which there’s an elephant in the room and you can’t talk about it? An ELEPHANT for God’s sake? I can understand not being able to talk about a dog or a cat. Or not being able to talk about THE SPIDERS! OH MY GOD THE SPIDERS! Or even some other jungle animals like a gibbon (the primate, not the author) or a capybara, but an elephant. As far as I can tell you can always talk about an elephant.
OK, so there’s an elephant in the room. How did the elephant get into the room? Is it a full grown elephant? So the room must have some pretty big doors. Maybe it’s a garage. Or maybe there are just some big French doors. But here’s what I think, it’s a DINING room. The inside portion of a fashionable upscale restruant with outdoor seating, and the whole front is open to the street. So the elephant can walk right in.
So you you’re sitting there eating dinner. Probably You’re using a knife and fork. You have a cloth napkin. Your drink is served in a glass and not in a paper cup. I BELIEVE THERE ARE SUCH PLACES. With no pictures on the menus too. SO HOW DO YOU CHOOSE WHAT YOU WANT TO EAT? And then an elephant walks in through the front. And the waiter comes over, with your COMPLIMENTARY DRINK REFILL because this place is so fancy, and asks you, incredibly politely, “Sir or Madam, if you wouldn’t mind, could you not speak about the elephant please. Restaurant policy.”
Then they throw a blanket over the elephant and keep serving dinner. AND DON’T GIVE YOU ANY SORT OF DISCOUNT ON YOUR DINNER, EVEN IF THE ELEPHANTS BUTT IS POINTING RIGHT AT YOU DURING THE WHOLE MEAL. THAT’S WHY YOU CAN’T TALK ABOUT IT.
But how often does that happen? RARELY, I would think. In New York less often than some places where the streets literally team with rogue elephants, like Tucson or Buenos Ares or Newark. But even there, not so much.
Because fancy restaurant don’t server PEANUTS. Mostly that’s in cheaper bars. But there, the doors aren’t so big.
So, basically, if there’s an elephant in the room with you, don’t let the waiter pressure you into not talk about it. Speak right up. Say, “Hey, look, an elephant. In the room!”

New York, NY — Once and for all, world, Bloggy McBlog Blog is absolutely not for sale. No matter how much money I am offered, no matter which vivacious starlet calls me personally at home from the set of her new show on Fox, no matter how many fruit baskets they send me, I WILL NOT SELL. The world NEEDS THIS BLOG as it is, NOT AS A PLACE FOR CORPORATE AMERICA TO SHILL THEIR PRODUCTS. It is a place for the King of the Bloggers to write the truth and for my legions of loyal readers to read it!

The fruit baskets pile up in the hall and the neighbors complain about the flies, but how can I consider selling out to any of the media billionaires who have sent them when I know THAT I MUST CONTINUE THE WORK? I sit here at my desk, covered with my neatly penned notes, hundreds of volumes of research materials, newspapers from around the world, carefully marked and indexed and post-it notes, everywhere post-it notes, like little square flags of confusion, aching for the touch of sunlight, but I must keep working. I can not stop for a moment. And they ask me to sell out. To sell the DREAM!?! What could money buy me? The internets need me.

And what do they offer me? Real money? No they offer their fake sudo-money. Their KDollars. What would I do with them? Shop at K-Mart? Buy a K car? What good would 700 KDollars do me? I don’t live near a Circle-K or need to buy tickets to see music legends KC and the Sunshine Band.

So I continue the work. The internets need me and the bloggers need their king, Bloggy McBlog Blog, King of the Bloggers.

New York, NY — There is something very wrong with the internets. I am not referring to the terrible slowness that makes a simple photo of something tastefully erotic take so long to down load. Nor am I referring to the sheer number of Viagra and penis enlargement advertisements I must respond to each day with a polite “no.”

I am referring to pictures of cats with words on them. THE WORDS ARE NOT ON THE CATS THEY ARE ON THE PICTURES. There will be a picture of a cat who has recently been run over by a motor vehicle and there will be words on the picture saying “I r in ur steet bein’ krush’d 2 deth by truck.” The grammar of these cats is terrible

These pictures are variously referred to as “lolcats” or “macro cats” or “cheeseburgers” or “diggs” or some other crazy crap. There are many of them. There’s the one with the little kitten and the other one with the gray cat. There are dozens. AND THEY NONE OF THEM SUPPORT THE TROOPS! NOT AT ALL!

This is not what the internets are for. They are not for pointless pictures of cats who CAN NOT EVEN USE THE INTERNETS EVEN IF THEY CAN SIT ON THE KEYBOARD OR ON TOP OF THE MONITOR OR LOOK AT THE SCREEN AS IF THEY WERE USING THEM!!! It is not right to use up the internets on these pictures.

If everyone who made one of these pictures were to take the same amount of time to maybe work in a gas station or as a fry cook they maybe could earn a little money. They could then go out and buy groceries, food, clothing. EVERYONE WINS!

I can not think of anything on the internets that is a greater danger to our way of life, to our children’s well being than pictures of cats with words on them. ON THE PICTURES NOT ON THE CATS! The only thing I could think of that would be worse would be pornography, if that was on the internets.

All mothers want to hire the very best nanny they can, even if they don’t want to have a nanny. Many will hire a nanny and then ask that nanny to watch the cat or just stare at a cup of water on the kitchen counter because in reality THEY HAVE NO CHILDREN!!! THEY ARE JUST “MOTHERS” IN THE SENSE THAT THEY ARE NOT FATHERS!!! And so they read part I and part II of this series of blog entries and find out how to hire a nanny. They find out how to find this nanny, to negotiate a salary, benefits and movie rights. Then there is the one question that is still hanging in the air. The one THEY MUST HAVE THE ANSWER TO IF THEY ARE TO READ THIS FAR INTO MY ARTICLE!!! How do they keep the nanny from having hot sex with their husband?
This is almost impossible. Imagine you are watching a movie. In the movie one of the Baldwin brothers plays a father. Some actress who was in a Sit Com in the 1980s plays his wife. His children are played by children. Another of the Baldwin brothers, IN DRAG!!! plays his mother. Scene one just establishes the scene. The kids are a little out of control. Diane from Cheers complains that being a happy homemaker is not satisfying enough, she wants to go back to work. She gets a job as a secretary in a hilarious used car lot run by the handyman from One Day at a Time. Not Mr. Roper, the handyman from One Day at a Time. Well, half way through the first reel in comes whomever is Drew Barrymore these days. She’s the new nanny.
Now at this point you know that Drew and Baldwin X are going to be doing something besides rinsing dinner glasses before too long. You just know it! Meanwhile the handyman guy is all over Diane and suddenly Woody walks in, though now he’s played by the kid from Lost in Space, all grown up. He’s all like “Diane, why did you leave that baseball playing guy? He’s all said and stuff. And Fraser’s got another show, and it doesn’t look that good.”
So what, as a mother, can you do?
First off, forget about not hiring a good looking nanny. Men just don’t care that much.
And don’t put secret little cameras all over the house. Those things are like a big neon sign screaming “HEY YOU!! HAVE ILLICIT NOOKY!!” Who doesn’t want to get into one of those video collections with people who are caught on tape? There are actors, and I’ve heard the Baldwin brothers mentioned, who are waiting in line to be in something like “CAUGHT AT THE OFFICE IV, ALL GIRL!”
But there are things you can do.
1) Plan on coming home early three or four days a week. Throw the front door open and scream “CAUGHT YOU YOU LYING SCUM BAG! GET THE HELL OFF OF HER!” Even if you don’t catch them the first few times, eventually it will work. The only issue can be if you have a nervous dog, like a poodle or a labradoodle or papadoodle or pickamoooky or some crazy thing like that. It might just fall over dead.
2) Teach your children to spy on your husband. In turn he will teach them to lie to you, so they learn a lot of useful stuff.
3) Hire your ex-husband, dressed as a fat old lady, as your nanny. Even if your current husband does get somewhere with him, the jokes on them!
4) Beat him to the punch by having hot girl-girl action with her yourself.
5) Stay home and take care of the kids and send the nanny to your job.
6) Stay home and watch the nanny and send the kids to your job.
7) Go to work, but take the nanny and kids with you.
Go to work, take the kids, meet the nanny at lunchtime and have her go back to your office with the kids, you go home.
9) Go to work, take your husband, at lunch he gets the kids and takes them to his job, you and the nanny have the afternoon off.
10) You, the nanny, your husband and your neighbors kids all go to your job. Your kids stay with your neighbors nanny. This best part of this is that you don’t have to pay her, the neighbors do! So the jokes on them.

New York, NY — Summer is here. New York City is like a hardboiled egg, just out of the pot, white and round and too hot to touch. Waiting to be shelled and salted. Your clothes cling to your body and the back of your neck gets damp. Sometimes your palms gets damp. Sometimes you get a rash where your thighs rub together.

Young women walk the streets in tank tops and shorts. Their supple skin exposed to the beating white sun and the gaze of middle aged men who were trying to remember something they were supposed to get at the store and when they don’t get it and come home they’ll be subjected to exasperated sighs and comments like, “that was the whole point of going to the store” and “do you live on planet la la or something?” The young womens tanned necks, covered with fine downy blond hairs don’t get so damp. Or at least they aren’t covered in boils.

Some people don’t like summer in New York. To those people I say, YOU ARE A BUNCH OF IDIOTS WHO PROBABLY CAN’T SEE PAST THE END OF YOUR NOSES AND MAKE EVERYTHING SO HORRIBLE FOR EVERYONE AROUND YOU THAT YOU SHOULD JUST DIE. I don’t mind it. It’s exciting. There can be blackouts and looting. You never get that in winter. Looting maybe, but not blackouts so much.