To Whom it May Concern:

I apologize to the few of you who actually make daily visits to encounter what I have to say. Things have been pretty stagnate of late, and I'm lacking an inspiration that tends to bubble in my mind. Perhaps it's the fact that the majority of my readers are actually spammers who feed off the IP adressess that this site contains. That alone is enough to piss me off. It's rather depressing that my 'fight the man' attitude of avoiding the online journal epidemic is slapping me in the face. People seem not to understand the concept of bloggging.

"What is a bl- bl- log, anyway?"

"Well, first, it's not a beelog. It's a blog - short for Web Log. As a matter of fact, it's what your dumb ass uses everyday you spill your empty heart into that online journal!"

"Oh. Cool."

It's rather obvious why people are a little less than responsive to what I have to say. Maybe I should decorate my blog with flowers and create a section for my friends. I suppose if I had a section of friends, I could look at it everyday and feel that I'm loved. I could baske in the glory of my friend counter.

"Hey, how many friends are you reppin' on your online journal?"

"Well, there's me, you, this guy I met, some girl that I don't know, this person from Texas, I think his name is Gino, or something."

"Oh. Cool."

"Yeah. Am I on your friends list?"

"No."

If I was to enlist and join the ranks of the regular online journalee, there would a number of alterations I would have to make, not only to my style, but to my whole thought process. For starters, I would have to ignore every fundamental rule of grammer I was ever taught. Secondly, I would have to write as though I was being forced at gunpoint. Thirdly, I would have to spill the innards of my shallow love life and petty dramatics, all the while pretending that I'm a featured actor on The Young & The Restless. For the sake of you true readers, I shall display the three exampes I've just explained in one solitary piece.

"Today i was lik at my friends house and we totaly called this girl that i met when i was with my friend at this one palce. she came over right away i seen her walk up the dirveway and was like i hate you guys and i didnt no what to think or say or do or what. i'm sooo confused. my life sucks. im going to listen to emo music and hope that my pain and misry goes away when i waked up in the morning. why does all this happen to me. why me!!!1 why me!! jesus i ahte this. i hate this soo much. people are sooo mean and insensative to what i say and feel. dammit, ima human to. mood: flustered, boo hoo. music: matchbook of the year."

Does that require any further examination? Please, it was torture enough to actually write it, I beg you not to ask for more. But, to be fair, if more is what you want, then do I have the link for you! www.livejournal.com. That, my friends, is the cespool for every trivial, uneducated, and overwhelmed thought ever "thunked". If that's what you want, then by coming here, you're in the wrong place.

"Hey dude, drama sucks. Do you know where I can find more?"

"No."

"Oh. Cool"

I've frankly run fresh out of ideas. I've tried cheap and schemish marketing ploys, shoving my work down the throats of my friends (and of people I don't even know). I've changed my answering machine message to plug for my blog. So this is what rock bottom feels like. Maybe I'm being given an ultimatum. Enter the World of Despair and Gloom, also known as Online Journal Land, or be forced to endure underwhelming levels of readership for the remainder of your natural life. Ok, well, maybe it's an exaggeration, but it's an ultimatum nonetheless. What other choice do I have?

"Hey man, I heard you made a live journal!"

"Yeah, this whole thing sucks. It's nothing but drama and whining."

"I know! Don't you love it!"

"God, why me?"

"Hey! You fit right in!"

God, why me.