Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: Blogwhoring
Pimpage
And I just now thought of a new caption. To paraphrase Gerald R. Ford, a man who knew how to exercise his sphincter ani (serious flatulence problem, I’m told),
“Did you do that? Show some class!”
D.
Damned chipping Sodburies
This is what I get hanging around at Lilith’s blog.
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My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Duke Douglas the Edible of Chipping Sodbury Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title |
The Edible seems so apropos . . . considering the fact that tomorrow is Global Orgasm Day.
D.
Urgent appeal!
My pal Blue Gal has the #1 spot in her category for the 2006 Weblog Awards, but the lead is slim. You can vote for her here.
You can vote once every 24 hours, and the contest ends Friday.
D.
“I do love kittens”
From my favorite Guerilla Woman, Women: Know Your Limits (a video concerning the dangers of mixing women and higher education).
*giggle*
D.
Blogosophy
So Blue Gal lit a fire under Redd Turtle, hoping her friend would get back into the swing of things, but Redd had reached a blogological impasse. Redd writes:
I’ll be honest. I can’t decide on the angle, hence the procrastination. I don’t really mean angle in a “let’s get them here by writing about hot button issues†way. I just mean – I’m interested in so much my brain is full.
Blue Gal cited yours truly as an example of a brainful blogger who somehow makes it work. Never mind that 90%* of the hits you see below are to my cameltoe page. (Phrased differently: when it comes to blogospheric success, be careful what you wish for). Even if most of my blog’s visitors are singlehanded-typing teenaged boys, I still have what I really want — an audience. You guys. The ones who read my blog even if I don’t put up any kewl graphics.
But, um, just in case . . .
Still here? I knew I could count on you.
I wish I could share some sort of insight with Redd Turtle, something that would help her find her blogging voice. Maybe I can, maybe I can’t; I think everyone has to find their own voice. It’s safe to say mine has been polyglottic from the start. Of my first ten posts:
3 concerned my fiction
2 were about books
1 was about a movie
1 was a family photo
1 was about work
1 was about my son’s headache problems (the best of the ten, I think), and
1 was a humor piece (don’t bother)
In my opinion, I didn’t hit my stride until this piece, my first Memoirist BS post, which I wrote at the end of my second month. That’s when it dawned on me what people wanted most: a piece of me.
Not that I’m anything special, mind you. (Sex- and food-obsessed, yeah, but special? Nah. Barney the Purple Dinosaur’s friends are special. I’m just me.) See, I think folks want two things from blogs, information and a slice of humanity. But information, you can get that from any dumb old website. Human contact? That’s the blogosphere’s domain.
Even when folks look to the blogosphere for information, it’s that human touch they desire. Take my friend Blue Gal, for example. If I’m wondering about the size of James Carville’s micropenis, I don’t only want to know the figure in inches; I want to know what Blue Gal thinks of Carville’s micropenis.
So, Redd, I really don’t think brainfulness is a shortcoming in this business. It’s a virtue. Embrace your polyglot nature. Write about whatever tweaks your fancy that day, but remember to let us know your take on the story. If folks wanted simple reportage, they could hit cnn.com or a dozen other news sources; but, no. Your readers want your riff, so give it to ’em. Give ’em your riff. Cram it down their greedy little throats.
As for me, I’m gonna go back to searching butt cleavage images.
D.
*90%? I don’t know. A LOT. How much is a lot in percent?
Morning pimpage
Last night, I read Dean Cochrane’s The Weaveling, which he wrote for PBW’s eBook challenge. The story begins in the familiar territory of rural horror but soon breaks fresh ground. The ending is far from predictable.
While I’m on the subject of eBooks, I keep meaning to read Tamara Siler Jones’s Fire, a Lars Hargrove mystery. But I haven’t read it yet. (Bad fanboy. Bad, bad fanboy.)
You can find the full list of PBW’s eBook challenge entries here. There’s enough free online fiction there to keep you busy for a long, long time.
What about my Thursday Thirteen? I had thought to write one entitled Thirteen Sex Tapes I REALLY Don’t Want to See, but after Britney Spears + Kevin Federline, where else do I go? Paris Hilton, I suppose, but I’ve already beaten that particular dog.
I have the most recent issue of Cosmo, but that would have been a rush job.
So . . . if I do a Thirteen, it will be a good deal later in the day, and will probably be something uninspired, like Thirteen Things I Would Like To Do With Rachael Ray In The Kitchen.
Wait. That has potential.
Stay tuned.
D.
The firewall reading room
This morning, I’ve been hanging out at Jurassic Pork’s place, catching up on my New York Times firewalled columns. He has posted a couple of tasty Maureen Dowd columns, and a fine Paul Krugman column, too.
My favorite bit from Maureen Dowd, neatly summarizing why the Repugs got their butts kicked:
Republicans were oddly oblivious to the fact that they had turned into a Thomas Nast cartoon: an unappetizing tableau of bloated, corrupt, dissembling, feckless white hacks who were leaving kids unprotected. Tom DeLay and Bob Ney sneaking out of Congress with dollar bills flying out of their pockets. Denny Hastert playing Cardinal Bernard Law, shielding Mark Foley. Rummy, cocky and obtuse as he presided over an imploding Iraq, while failing to give young men and women in the military the armor, support and strategy they needed to come home safely. Dick Cheney, vowing bullheadedly to move “full speed ahead†on Iraq no matter what the voters decided. W. frantically yelling about how Democrats would let the terrorists win, when his lame-brained policies had spawned more terrorists.
She concludes with ruminations about the victory of estrogen-powered politics over testosterone-fueled blundering:
Because of the power of female consumers, some marketing experts predict we will end up a matriarchy. This year, women also flexed their muscle at the polls, transformed into electoral Furies by the administration’s stubborn course in Iraq.
On Tuesday, 51 percent of the voters were women, and 55 percent of women voted for the Democratic candidate. It was a revival of the style of Bill Clinton, dubbed our first female president, who knitted together a winning coalition of independents, moderates and suburbanites.
According to The Times’s exit polls, women were more likely than men to want some or all of the troops to be withdrawn from Iraq now, and 64 percent of women said that the war in Iraq has not improved U.S. security.
The Senate has a new high of 16 women and the House has a new high of at least 70, with a few races outstanding. Hillary’s big win will strengthen her presidential tentacles.
I’m still nervous about Hillary Clinton. Her “I have bigger balls than the rest of you dorks combined” style rubs me the wrong way. Also, I have the feeling political expediency tops her list of priorities. Why do some people like her so much? I don’t get it.
D.
My sperm finds a comfy home
Remember Krugy? Well, Renee put him to good use.
I have but one thing to say:
Aaaaaaah.
D.
Blogwhorgy. Right here, right now.
Karen thinks I should try not be so heavy for a change. This is a humor blog, after all. Kind of. Sort of. Mostly.
“So, I shouldn’t edit that long piece I wrote last week on my patient who died when I was a resident?”
“No.”
And I suppose those ruminations over the Jewish concept of an afterlife should stay ruminations. And Karen’s thoughts about getting through chemotherapy, well, maybe turning that into a Thursday Thirteen wouldn’t be such a hot idea.
Stop. Just stop. Or as we say in (now, what country is this?), DUR.
(Thought I’d sneak some Random Flickr Blogging in on y’all. This comes from eclipse watch.)
Instead, how about this idea: in the comments, please hype a post of yours you have written recently (I’ll let you define ‘recently’), one you’re proud of, one you would like to see read far and wide. Blogwhore away, my friends! I’ll also put up links below this paragraph, just like I do for the Thirteen. And, of course, I’ll be sure to read your posts and comment, too, if I can manage to say anything that isn’t, well, DUR.
Have at it! Hope you brought your own condoms.
I’m going to kick things off with a shout for Shelbi’s surefire orgasm machine. It doesn’t get much more blogwhorgicological than that.
The ever-fascinating Suisan gives us Tiger Lily! Poignancy! And demanding moms!
Pat gives us five truths (and one great viddy link).
If you haven’t seen Renee’s stuff yet, go see, and make her shiver with XXXXXO while you’re at it. And her friend Carla? Just gimme some hot chocolate and maraschino cherries. I’ll bring my own whipcream.
(Um, was that too gross?)
Dean’s post about the pleasures of older women. I’ve hyped it before, and I’ll hype it again.
Here’s Generik on Staying the Course.
D.