Only Superfans and Gorilla Glue Stick Around This Long
So, I'm going to say this right off the top:
If you're still reading my blog at this point, chances are you're either a deeply loyal reader or a delusional paranoid schizophrenic who bookmarked me instead of WebMD by accident. Or maybe you just haven't learned how to unsubscribe.
Whatever the real reason is, welcome back, and thanks.
You are now in the rarefied company of the most elite - well, elite-ish - group of readers to be found on the internet. The Superfans. The kind of people who, like myself, would survive a nuclear meltdown with nothing but sarcastic wit, stubborn curiosity, high-jink hilarity... and a cotton swab. As long as there were cheese puffs.
I salute you. Partly because I'm truly appreciative, but mostly because I'm afraid you'll glue yourself to the comments and spam me with question marks and confused emoji faces.
And while we're on the subject of glue:
A Brief History of Stickiness
I read somewhere that in today's impatient climate, most blog readers vanish after about 37 words. That falls somewhere between the attention span of online shoppers and the life cycle of a fruit fly.
But you?? You've made it through posts A, C, E, K, and most infamously M. Remember? The one where I catalogued my going mad with a dramatic recalling of the things that make me go mad? Yeah, that one.
You've survived my experiments in grammatical tenses, and you'll come out better than after. You've endured running gags that crawl, and there's quite likely some internal bleeding from the overuse of spicy jalapeno-esque metaphors.
And there's another one; take THAT, ulcerated whaddayacallit!
Yes, the kind of loyalty you've all been displaying deserves recognition. And quite possibly hazard pay. I might have to hand out awards for bravery to those who make post Z.
Readers Like You Make Me Question Everything
Who are you?
Really, I find myself needing to know this answer. Please comment and let me know.
Because statistically speaking, this blog should probably have been abandoned faster than good fashion sense at a film festival. Sometimes, I consider pivoting to a new, more idealistic online hustle. Like dance instructions and motivational advertising for senior care centres.
But then, I see those view counts go up each Friday. The rest of the week the numbers aren't the same, but they're there. (Their. Literary OCD temporarily appeased.) I even got a response to my Dad Joke post that was another Dad joke. How awesome is that??
It's those little things that make me think, "Fine. I'll write the next one."
Turns out, y'all are the Gorilla Glue of my writing resolve. You keep me sticking to it and seem to enjoy my brainwaves becoming legible. And quite possibly chemically unstable.
Enough to keep things interesting, anyway.
Things My Readers Have Stuck Through
I'm going to take a moment to acknowledge the sheer endurance it takes to stick with me every week. Here's a partial list of things you've conquered:
1. At least two food related posts that made you question your fiber intake as well as my position on potatoes and fine gravy. And how snacks are part of my pseudo-physical identity. (Therapy)
2. A 1400-word deep dive into self-diagnosis using Dr. Google after which I left myself confused as to whether I actually exist or I'm just part of some alien race's Sims game. (Self-therapy)
3. An entire entry based on waking up one day and deciding, "Yeah, I might be good enough to make the subject of envelopes cool." (Even that post needs therapy.)
4. Me referring to the Toronto Maple Leafs as "the world's saddest talent show." Actually, I haven't done that one yet. (And may change my mind, or I might end up needing physical therapy.)
You've witnessed the honestly absurd, the ranting ridiculous, and the writer of all those at his most caffeinated. Which is basically akin to Mount Vesuvius giving off smoke signals; it's going to go off, but we don't know when.
I'm Fully Aware That I'm Not Always the Easiest to Follow
Let's face facts. If this blog were a TV show, it would be canceled by the fourth episode but would then slowly gain a cult following in Trinidad. Or Iceland. Wherever it is that they speak Icelandic.
One post is a confession, the next is satire, and then I go for satirical confession in which I apologize for something I'm not really sorry about.
Someone told me this blog is like reading the ramblings of a stand-up comic who recently discovered philosophy while stuck in an elevator with Weird Al playing in a loop. For me, that's a win.
Because you're still here. Still.
What Superfans Don't Do But Probably Should
Another brief pause to acknowledge that being a superfan of this blog does NOT come with perks.
There's no discount code. Unless you count that only my wife has tipped me so far, just to make sure the button works.
No T-shirts.
No bizarrely personal messages of thanks with my signature in what may or may not be blood. (George, if you get an envelope in the mail, don't open it. Just send it back.)
But here's what you do get:
- Irregular doses of what I call humour.
- Occasional whiplash from sudden emotional turns or complete changes of thought.
- My favorite; the slow but undeniable realization that you've invested your time in a writer who once wrote 600 words about refusing to write 601 words.
You're not following this blog for life advice. (If you are... you likely need therapy)
And you're not here because Google recommended it. (Envelopes - still not that popular)
You're still here because something you read in all this muckedy-moo made sense, or resonated, or just got stuck in your head.
Maybe a sentence. Maybe a full post. Maybe a joke that made you breathe a little heavier than normal through your nose because a sigh felt like too much acknowledgement.
I'll take that. Every single time.
The Real Reason I Keep Writing
The truth?
It's cheaper than a golf membership and because my wife told me lighting fireworks indoors is illegal. And how I once singed the moisture out of my epiglottis.
Also, because I know someone - could be you - is sitting at a desk, or curled up on a couch, or maybe even pretending to look busy at work while reading this latest post.
That's the way we all get to be in on the joke for a few minutes.
You laugh. Or not. Perhaps a groan. Or two.
I feel seen, and somewhere an algorithm realizes we've shared a real human connection for a moment and tries to shut it down. Those power outages are not coincidence.
And whether you lurk silently, read over someone else's shoulder, or are here because you searched "does glue expire" I'm happy you're here.
You and others like you are literally the adhesive that's holding this mess together.
What's Next?
Well, more nonsense, obviously.
I'm a part-time writer, full-time dreamer, and unofficial spokesmen for Gorilla Glue, pending the outcome of the lawsuit. I believe attention spans need to be harnessed, metaphors wrangled out of the thinnest of possible connections, and loyal readers deserve snacks.
No snacks will be provided.
I'll keep writing as long as you keep reading. Or skimming. Or reading half and then telling your spouse that you finished so you don't have to explain why you're giggling at your phone again.
Eventually, I'll wrap up this alphabetical blog series. I'll probably compile them into a book nobody will buy (but feel free to pre-order in the comments.) Maybe I'll start over, or go numerically, or possibly even take suggestions from readers. That might be fun.
Actually, there's no possible way that couldn't be fun! (In fact, leave suggestions in the comments. And yes, this is the third time I've mentioned comments. Get a clue, people!)
Either way, thanks for sticking. Not just around, but through.
(You may have noticed neither Dave nor the Bee Gees made their usual cameo appearance in this post. As running gags go, they're fast, slippery little suckers and got away from me this time.)
🤣🤣🤣 You're the best!
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