Friday, October 17, 2008

Like testicles from rearview mirrors - blogathong

This is an entry for the blogathong, which I heard about from Scary Scary Quite Contrary. I don't know many details about it other than people are expected to write a blog a day, Monday to Friday, for the next 24 days. I like that idea. I've been too lazy lately.

Send all complaint letters to sexmahoney@gmail.com.



You wouldn’t think that there are more uses for the internet than the free exchange of hardcore pornography.

I mean, what else would you do with a global communication network besides send pictures of yourself fucking various fruits, vegetables, and common, household pets?

And yet, human beings are always ready to surprise us, whether it’s inventing elaborate conspiracy theories to explain what really happened on 9/11 or having the gall to mass slaughter animals in factories and still get up in arms when someone indulges their bloodlust by hosting dog fights.

That’s why I was amazed to see blogs take off on the internet.

In one way or another, I’ve been blogging since the late 90s, when I would post humorous essays on my old geocities account, but there weren’t as many handy tools for neophytes then like there are now; I wrote out the code for those pages by hand and created simplistic, but effective page layouts to spread my message to the dozens of people who saw that site. For nostalgia’s sake, I logged into my old account in the middle of writing this paragraph, and looked over such classics as How to Perform an Unwanted Abortion and Sexual Predation: The Ins and Outs – A Beginner’s Guide: volume 1 - playgrounds.

Boy that takes me back.

Nowadays, it’s hard to remember a time when blogging didn’t play such a big role in my life; since, for the last three years, I’ve spent upwards of two to three hours a day reading blogs by people from all over the Earth and hoping that they’re written by attractive sixteen year old girls with permissive parents and a strong desire to post semi-nude photos of themselves on their myspace accounts.

I started by reading other people’s blogs and leaving comments, that attracted readers to my blogs, then I started leaving breadcrumbs full of sedatives and laxatives to see, not only who would take the bait, but which would kick in faster. At first, I had fun watching people fall asleep while shitting themselves, but that got boring after a while, so I switched to a stronger narcotic, and now I enjoy twenty four hours a day entertainment as strangers on the internet find their way to my blog, pass out in a heap, and then crap their pants.

I’ve been writing for years, but the best responses I’ve received (well, to be fair, the only responses I’ve received from non-family members or dismissive publishers) have all come from this blog; so much so, that I have largely abandoned all my other writing to work on the style I have created here. Sure, I still do an occasional script every now and again, but I have largely laid fiction by the wayside.

Non-fiction is just so much more fun.

Well… my kind of non-fiction anyway.

When I was a boy, I loved to read fiction; couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Now, I rarely read more than one or two novels a year. Granted, those novels were all written several hundred years ago and are each longer than a thousand pages, but I’m not here to talk about Geoffrey Chaucer’s Guide to Bubonic Plague Weight Loss. I want to talk about blogs.

Most blogs are non-fiction… I think.

There’s no real way to know if what people put on the internet is true. For me, part of the fun is in never knowing what is truthful and what is a lie, which is why I treat everything anyone writes as a lie until it’s proven otherwise. You wouldn’t believe how often that ends with me pulling a kerchief off someone’s head while trying to prove to a room full of support group patients that someone doesn’t have cancer, only to reveal a bald scalp and my own ignorance. The nice thing about picking on cancer patients is that they generally don’t have much strength to fight back; the shitty thing is that their emotionally vulnerable relatives usually do and they are in desperate need of a target on which to vent their frustration; so, I guess my douchebaggery provides a valuable service to the soon to be bereaved.

I do my best to be truthful, but when you tell jokes, the truth only works when it’s funny, the rest of the time you have to make up shit to sell the punch line. You can rest assured that everything I write is 100% truthful at least 30% of the time.

All of us bloggers diddle away our time for any number of reasons, but the unifying factor, the one thing we all have in common, is a desperate need to have other people feed our already grossly inflated egos. Your comments and kudos serve to keep my head swollen like the Grinch’s small black heart when he heard the Whos singing in Whoville.

Eventually, we’ll run out of the natural resources necessary to keep this internet monster running and we’ll go back to typing or scratching our pointless ideas on plain old paper, but until then, it is an honor to live in a time when the world wide web allows people from all over the globe to share in the joy that is social networking and animal related pornography.

I guess this is my long winded way of saying thank you to those of you who found me. I don’t know how it happened, or why you stay, but it is, along with said bestiality, the best gift that any fledgling writer could receive.

I only hope that, in return for stroking my ego, I can bring a little joy and laughter to the time you spend reading my dick and fart jokes that would otherwise be wasted on useless claptrap like finding a cure for AIDS or improving on the Colonel’s original recipe of eleven secret herbs and spices.

Blog.

Sex Mahoney for President


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