Blog Note

Here is something you need to know about me: blogging isn't as much fun as it used to be. When Haloscan got phased out, I went into despair.

This is not a flippant statement. Its brevity does not subvert the enormity of its meaning.

It is also not a passive statement. I actively cared about the simplistic beauty of Haloscan, how it could easily be customized to shove my offensive konagod logo in your face on the rare occasions when you decide to comment. I know it should be about the blog, and about the people who pop in here for 30 seconds for a glimpse of my pussy and my occasional posts of absolute stunning brilliance. It should also be about the awesome work I do mentoring my enormous readership, whether it's someone who is so stupid they don't know how to put a YouTube video on their blog (oh wait, I think I had to seek clarification the first time I tried it... scratch that), or the hundreds of you who email me daily wanting to know about my inspiration for the Question of the Day. I communicate privately, in email threads that can last for several minutes, with dedicated konagod readers who have had a bit too much to drink, and have no lives of their own. Most want to share their cat photos with me, or just talk dirty. I have sometimes gone the extra mile and referred them to a restaurant I think they might like, or the best place to get a good deal on hooch. I have been known to drunk dial my readers. I have told some to go to hell. That, folks, is dedication!

My feelings about this blog and my multitude of readers are not an abstract concept to me. Purple hazy at times, but not abstract. They are concrete and personal and an occasional half-hearted practice. And with the loss of Haloscan, the other half of my heart has been ripped from my chest and spat upon by JS-Kit.

Here are some other things you need to know about me: I make minor mistakes about once a year. I feel shitty, really shitty, when I make a mistake that hurts any of my thousands of devoted readers.

I convey all of the above as preface to this: Because I kinda/sorta care about this blog as I do, it is singularly infuriating and hurtful that I am repeatedly accused of plagiarism, lack of faith, bad faith, insanity, snootiness, being a pothead, and making glaring mistakes. Or just do/say something with which someone disagrees. The overt accusations or veiled implications—deliberate or otherwise—of plagiarism, lack of faith, deliberate cruelty (only to humans, never to animals), hidden agendas, openly Gay Agendas, blogging while going commando, indifference, not decorating for Christmas or hunting for eggs on Easter, being a hippie, sleeping nekkid, having a preference for real estate shows over political commentary, farting loudly outdoors, storing my pins in a voodoo dolly, etc. are profoundly demoralizing after the loss of my beloved Haloscan.

And I am demoralized.

I am axiomatically assumed by hundreds tens of thousands of my readers to be acting in bad faith if I err (or even if I am perceived to have erred, but haven't, because honestly, that happens maybe once a year), even as I am simultaneously expected never to err at all. konagod was founded, managed and nurtured by a person an honest and down-to-earth asshole. And the continual proclamations that "I can't believe that konagod would allow this to happen, of all assholes!" every time I am perceived to have made a mistake (or the once a year genuine mistake), or plagiarized the work of others (I believe in sharing and borrowing though), necessarily implies that perfection is expected of me, as if konagod is a magical kingdom created of marijuana ash and not a virtual space made possible by the hard work of a drunken stoned asshole. This blog's charter (oh, you don't have a copy of it on your wall? Shame!) specifically provides room for me—and the tens of thousands of others who come here—to fail, as you inevitably will. If you won't support the provision of that room to fail, then you're not providing a chafe space for me to tell you what a failure you are, that you are merely human, and that mistakes and failure happen, even though you should be ashamed to not be as nearly perfect as I am.

I understand the impulse to react viscerally to something I plagiarized posted, especially if it's hurtful. I'm just not sure why so few actually do. And I also understand that no one thinks it should be a big deal if they comment before thinking, just this once. But you are not alone. And if only an infinitesimally small percentage of this readership reacts viscerally by making the accusation that I was deliberately hurtful, that still makes about 2 times every single year I am being told, on the blog and in my sacred inbox, that I have no faith, or that I am neglecting my blog.

It is eminently possible to bring to my attention a mistake, or register a disagreement, without engaging in ad hominem attacks, using silencing tactics (or worse, the thousands of you reading who chose to bring nothing to my attention because you just can't be bothered), jumping to unfounded conclusions about allegedly reprehensible motives, pulling triggers on guns with silencers, or in some other way accusing me of neglect and having no faith. Failing explicit evidence I have acted to the contrary, I expect to be afforded the benefit of the doubt that I move and act in this space with little faith, but never not no faith. I believe I have earned that after almost four years.

I am here in little faith, often intoxicated, and that is not an opinion and it is not up for debate. Those who fail to make accusations to the contrary are fundamentally undermining the chafe space for me. That is not to say that dissent is prohibited (when I actually get some, I'll decide whether to prohibit it or not; that's also in the blog charter) or that my perceived mistakes should not be noted or that I don't expect to be held accountable if I have erred. As I've said, I rarely err. There's a big difference between erring and doing something stupid in the absence of mindfulness.

It is only to say that you and I are expected to think extremely carefully about every post, every comment, every image, every link, every link on every link, and every advertisement on every link and every advertisement on every link that is linked to what you link to, every word we post (you have the time, seriously. What other blogs would you be reading? And surely the boss doesn't mind if you take that extra 45 minutes to mull shit over! If not, well, quit that fucking job because this shit is more important anyway), and I am asking that my readers who communicate with me hold themselves to the same flawless standard while knowing damn well you're going to be disappointed.

And, you know, that's really just a fancy way of asking people to spend a whole lot more time here so the Sitemeter looks even better, and be a lot more thoughtful and engaged so the comment threads will actually reflect the fact that thousands of you are addicted to this blog like heroin. Which I don't think is a totally unreasonable request given the hours I spend vomiting this shit up for you.

Moving forward, if and on the occasions that doesn't happen, threads will be closed, blog posts may be deleted, content might be changed to make you look like a complete idiot, shit may get blown up. In other words, you are dancing with anarchy, my friends. (Which, as an aside, is not an invitation to take the accusations of bad faith to my inbox, which is a sacred space for me to keep track of who commented where on Facebook.) Readers who are rightfully angry that legitimate debate is then quashed should direct their anger in the appropriate direction—at yourselves for disagreeing with me and believing you are right and I am wrong, when clearly it is you with the problem. Otherwise, you would not be disagreeing. This stuff takes a toll.

I am flatly not going to, I can't, continue to allow myself to be endlessly unberated as someone who doesn't care about this blog or the people in it anymore, or I'm going to flame out.

But I fear I have digressed and rambled and frankly, may have lost a segment of you already. Where was I? Oh, Let me provide you with some specifics:

On Christmas day when I did my first ever Friday canine post, Eric Wilde commented, "I'm a dog person myself, so I really appreciate this."

Jesus! After doing cat posts every Friday since May of 2006, he dumps that on me. And on Christmas for Christ's sake! How the hell is that supposed to make me feel? Like a kick in the groin! Talk about a hurtful and demoralizing moment.

It ruined my holidays which already had me screwed up in the head not knowing whether it was Thursday or Sunday for two weeks. I was also in the midst of installing software on a new PC and transferring backed up data over when I happened to log into my Haloscan account and was mortified at the notification that it was being phased out the first week of January.

And then, New Year's Day came and went. I awoke on Saturday to the horrifying realization that 2010 arrived on a Friday and had passed without me putting up a pussy post! A new year was only a day old and I had already spent my one mistake a year allotment! Honestly, in retrospect, I've gotten over it. I did get a pussy post up on Saturday even though my heart wasn't in it. And then when I accepted the reality that I had made a glaring mistake, I realized I made no mistakes at all in 2009, so that year owed me one. All in all, it worked out. But I'm mentally and physically exhausted from the pressure, the demands here and on Facebook and in my sacred inbox for a pussy blog NOW! And of course, the intense pressure of getting this Echo comment system in place and burying Haloscan in the cold, cold ground. kona wept.

I'm taking the rest of the week off. See you Monday. Maybe. Or maybe not. I may be here tomorrow. A quick pussy blog and then outta here. I don't know. We'll see. But please do not start leaving comments demanding this or that. Even though I could choose to simply ignore them, I can't. You all mean that much to me, even as you pressure me to insanity.


[Commenting Note: If you have the inclination to use this thread to provide examples of something I did once upon a time that makes you totally sure that I am going to burn in hell for this, you have seriously missed the point. And if this thread turns into a referendum on how much I suck, or how much I enjoy sucking, it will just be closed. If no one bothers to show up, it will just be closed. I may close it the instant I post this out of spite just to show you who is in charge of the buttons here. In other words, you fuckers better worship my ass off or you'll get no pussy tomorrow nor a mystery cream-filled donut.]




[h/t: Lovingly dedicated (I shit you not) to an incarnation of the blog having the dubious distinction of inspiring me to start this blog.]