That last post sounded a little bossy. Or maybe whiney. So I am going to try to explain myself better… which is probably a mistake because I am sick and my brain is working in some strange ways… even for my brain.
I know. I do those posts fairly often. You know the ones, where I try to get those of you who follow me but never comment to say something to me in those little boxes. And I also know that I have made cynical jokes about how I do those posts just to get more comments because I am a stat junkie. But the real truth is actually sort of corny. But I am going to open up to you because I have been very sick for almost 5 days… (in fact I should apologize for the bat pictures I did while my brain was in such a fevered state, they were not my best work)…
Okay, here is the truth.
I want to make a connection with you. I want to get to know you. I want us to be friends.
My wife, whose patience for the time I spend blogging is wearing a little thin, never gets tired of telling me that my followers are not my friends. She says I don’t really know you, and that you might all be representing yourselves falsely. Okay, I can see that there might well be some truth to that. But as cynical as I am, I can’t bring myself to believe that about very many of you. What would you have to gain by pretending to be who you are? Obviously we all have some sort of persona that we have grown into. We are, to a degree, playing a role on our blogs. But I think that in some ways we are showing our true selves in ways that might even be more real than the way we represent ourselves to people in everyday life. We talk about stuff here that we might not even share with those closest to us in real life. That is sort of the power of having a blog.
Is it weird that we all crave acceptance from strangers that we may never meet? Yes. Yes it is. But that doesn’t make it less valid.
So yes, I want to read your words. I want to know what it is that I do that made you decide to honor me by becoming a follower. I do not take than honor lightly.
I am immensely proud of my followers. As a stat junky, having as many followers as I do makes me feel like I am doing something… if not worthwhile, then at least not a complete waste of time. And the comments I get are the lifeblood of this blog. My commentors rock. If you randomly scroll through any of my old posts and read the comments… you don’t even have to read the post itself, although as long as you are there… you will see that my commentors are funny. They are witty. They come from all around the world and they have a wide array of interests. And they are all here for completely different reasons.
And maybe that is one of the things I am most proud of on this blog. I do so much weird stuff that some of it is going to appeal to almost everyone. Of course the rest will just make you think I am nuts.
And despite what my wife says. I do consider many of you to be my friends. Believe it or not, my blog is my life. I don’t mean that it is all I do. I mean that I don’t fake anything. I didn’t just create a personality to hide behind. This is the real me.
I think maybe I will spend a few days introducing you to some of my favorite commentors. Maybe you will come to like them as much as I do. Because as weird as my brain is, there are always some people out there who are willing to take any crazy idea I have and ratchet it up a notch, and that is not an easy challenge.
Oh, and just so you know, if you do go back and read some of the comment sections of some of my old posts, and see that they are just crazy brilliant, you might notice one other thing…
I answer every single comment I get.
I mean I might have missed one or two here and there when I was sick or out-of-town, but for the most part, I answer every comment that you go to the trouble of typing in. And not just a quick ‘thank you’. I work just as hard on my answers as I do on the posts I do. Just so you know.
Pouring My Art Out 
My husband doesn’t get it either, nor does anyone I know who isn’t a blogger. It used to bug me, but not anymore- I know y’all are my pals and that’s all that matters in the end!
You’re adorable, too! ;o)
I am blushing and winking and smiling out loud… SOL… I invented that… I am patenting it.
I’ve been a follower for a while now. I am not going to say I like every single word you put to page, but I like enough of them to stay, however crazy you are. So to keep me, just keep on keeping on!
Now I want to know what it is you didn’t like… my self-esteem is that low…
Sometimes, IMHO, you take an idea too far – like the numerous posts on footie pyjamas. A couple or 3, OK by me, 8 – too many. 😉
Point taken… I get sucked into my own little worlds. That is good to know.
Tell your wife, gently, that much of your blogging includes your family. ANd explain to her, (if it;s true in your life,) that you have enough common sense — to avoid those kinds of Friends — and then, disassocita yourself from the monsters Facebook and Twitter! I think your posts are hilarious, poignat, lovely little bits of you that we get to see. I know I’m a sincere friend — you have terrific posts!
I am getting all misty-eyed and suishy inside. Thank you.
My partner thinks we are all sad losers and doesn’t get it. What are we on earth for if not to communicate and discover things about the world and its inhabitants.
Ha… Him and my wife should hit it off…
Here we go, again.
I know what you mean about the blog thing. I work alone here high atop Hippy Hill and sometimes blogging is the only non-work related communication I have for days on end.
We are friends. I’d give you some blood if you needed it.
If my lung doesn’t grow back, I might need some. I coughed it out two days ago.
When you were sick? I’d give you some lung, maybe even a sliver of liver.
I am sick right now. Have been for like 4 days.
I read that you had been sick but didn’t realize it was loitering and lingering. Maybe you have what Moosey had.
I think we should have the party at Balboa Park. That way Mrs. PMAO won’t be faced with a big mess and she can meet us in a neutral environment where we’ll make a good impression, hopefully.
Yes, and Moose can visit the zoo and try licking some other animals for a change.
We are all coming to san Diego! I’ll bring the Yorkshire pudding.
Yay! I’m coming too. We’ll have a party!
If my wife will let you in the house. We might have to meet at a public place until she decides you are all harmless… and Mooselicker is on a leash… ha.
Oh Moosey is cute and harmless. He thinks he’s old now that he’s 25.
He is an old soul in a used body… ha!
We have a good recipe, but you can’t have too much.
Is it being rationed?!
It seems we only make it at Christmas when our English heritage comes pouring out.
It goes with every roast dinner here. More batter in oil!
Not the healthiest side dish.
You’d like what we sometimes do, we make a giant one bowl shaped and put the roast dinner inside it. Edible plates. Actually you still need a plate
That is just crazy awesome.
This is emotional blackmail to make me comment! I am so going to try this on my blog some day. If your gravitar was a picture of a puppy the scene would be complete. Enjoyed your post.
You have discovered my secret. I have no shame. Which is weird because I am so shy I can’t ask waitresses for a refill of free ice tea. But you will always rise again, you will bob back up to the top… you are from Cork!
Also, I now feel that I know you just a little bit, and is that so bad?
Now excuse me. I have to go find a picture of a sad puppy to use as my gravitar.
Blogo-friends is what you are looking for? Probably better than random Facebook friends. You are allowed to be bossy and whiny and weird. You say you are an artist and it seems as if weirdness and a need for attention is common among your type, whatever that type may be. I hate to say it but your wife is right to a point, but not necessarily right with how we (me) represent ourselves. You’re right that there really is no point in false representations. I could put myself out there and let one and all know who am am, at least my name and face, but I think I show more of me behind my Rotten Ray moniker. Now I am rambling and am lost, but you are an interesting blog-friend even if you don’t follow me. Then, I don’t follow all that follow me since I wouldn’t be able to do anything else. It is your Cheney posts that got me hooked onto your insanity, even if I disagree on much of what you write.
See, now I am leaning stuff. I am tempted to ask what stuff I write you disagree with, but why open that can of worms?
I know there is stuff that I disagree with. I just can’t remember what it is. I’ll try to remember to tell you that you’re out of your mind or something the next time I read something that I disagree with. It is fun to disagree if all are civil, unlike our politicians in D.C.
I don’t mind disagreement. I know some of my stuff pisses some people off. But I do try to only piss off people that I don’t mind being pissed at me… so to speak.
I consider you a friend… in some sense of the word I definitely feel I know you and if I’m ever in San Diego I’m crashing at your place… ok maybe just dinner but still…
You are and you better.
I can’t believe I might be the first to comment on this post. What an honor. I really liked this post actually…I could hear your voice behind it. I think you were one of the first people/blogs I found when I started blogging. It wasn’t enough just to follow your blog. YOU HAD TO follow mine. Remember…I practically forced you to? Well played. I still don’t know exactly *why* I needed that. I had not begged anyone before that and no one since. But I have never regretted it once. Well…maybe once but that’s it.
That is so sweet. But remember there were times when my blunt honesty and desire to tell you what you needed to hear and not just what you wanted to hear, combined with my bad spelling, made you wonder if you hadn’t made a dreadful mistake… HA!
You rock. And I always tell you the truth, even when you don’t want me to.
I remember this going both ways. It’s like a calorie-free cookie we give each other. Spelling errors are like calories. It’s okay to have a few.
I see what you mean.
I think some bloggers are shy and there’s no getting them to break out of their shells. The worst is when a cute girl likes your blog then never comments. It’s such a tease.
I don’t want to agree to your sexist comment, but that doesn’t mean that you might not be a little right.
Sexist? Trust me, it can get a whole lot worse.
Dude… do you think I don’t know that about you by now???
Our heads aren’t in the right place at the moment. I thought a reminder was needed.
Just remember this is supposed to be a family friendly zone… Like Vegas… ha!
I’ll be the Carrot Top of your blog, incredibly hated.
Or Gilber Gotfried…
Maybe I can be Penn and you can be Teller. Finally, someone will get you to shut up 🙂
Ouch… ha!
“It can get worse”
You so call yourself mooselicker so I think that goes without saying. 😀
I’ve never harmed an animal. This stage name supplies nothing more than a warning 🙂
ha ha ha… that’s great.
He licks them very gently and carefuly.
Ha!
depending on the animal, I would lick carefully too.
Moose are dangerous. And they taste funny.
Moose urine tastes funny,. Moose tastes like buffalo, unless it has hair in it, then it tastes like most other things with hair in them.
TMI…
That’s it? ok… good to know.
NEVER FEAR EVERYONE! I found the line on this blog. It’s moose urine. Don’t cross the moose urine line.
Ha… I was commenting on your bible post as you were doing this… And it is just the drinking of moose urine that crosses the line. You want to bath in it, swim in it, have urine balloon fights with your friends with it. Fine. You can even garggle and rinse. But don’t swallow. Because that is just wrong.
ha ha haha… That would be the most evil water baloon fight ever. They hit you with water, you get them with moose urine.
What’s worse is, I’d have to import my moose urine, I am not in a moose populated area.
Why are you complaining? Think of those Canadian factory workers who have to get the moose’s to pee in the bottles!
Ok, I see a photoshop coming of some guy holding a bottle under a moose. lol lol
No… because then I couldn’t act all offended when people found my blog using search terms like…
moose drainers
how to hold a moose penis
moose whizz and French cooking
moose urine… it’s not just for drinking
how to hold a moose penis… omg. Those people are just gonna get this messed up conversation that started with you talking about stats and ended with moose penis.
The question ‘how did we get here’ never felt so right.
A new Monty Pyton sketch;
How to hold a moose penis from a very short way away…
lol.
And now, the urine…
number one, the urine…
The plural of moose is still moose.
That is what the Canadians want us to believe…
This is what Canadians know to be true . . .
They are smarter than the rest of us…