8 September 2003
For a moment there, I thought no one was going to weigh in with a question, and I was going to go into a prolonged sulk. And then, of course, it occurred to me that this very site meets the definition of a prolonged sulk, so obviously I had nowhere to go.
Anyway, here's what I got, and here's what you get:
Embarrassingly enough, I didn't know, and had to de-pants and then re-pants myself to ascertain the answer, which is: both functions begin on the right side.
Boxers or briefs?
I've wavered over the years, but I've settled fairly firmly into the boxers column over the last decade or so. (There are times, sometimes having to do with being unable to face a mountain of laundry, when I do without, but this is probably fewer than 120 days a year.)
Crunchy or smooth?
My palate prefers crunchy; my teeth, alas, prefer smooth.
Do you get me, sweetheart?
Not as often as I'd like, but I suspect no one else does, either.
Eggs can come? Damn. I learn something every day out here.
I'm not even sure how many blogs there are. BlogStreet reported 145,330 this evening; Technorati claims to be tracking 922,327. I suspect, though, that the single biggest week for blog startups, at least in this country, was the week right after 11 September 2001, for fairly obvious reasons, and about a third of the blogs I read during that period were subsequently abandoned.
There are many reasons why a blogger might give up: frustration with the tools, lack of time, or simply running out of things to say. Still, I've seen more than a few blogs that were left to lie fallow for a few months and then brought back to life.
One factor contributing to longevity, I think, is specialization: a blog that covers a relatively narrow range of topics may draw fewer readers, but those readers tend to be very loyal. All-over-the-place stuff like I do is in general decline, though truly exceptional blogs will always have an audience regardless of focus or lack thereof.
I lived by the beach for about ten years and hardly ever went some people should not be allowed in a swimsuit, and I'm one of them so that's not a major draw. On the other hand, if I lived in the mountains, I probably wouldn't be quite so fond of them.
The more I think about it, the more I like the area a few klicks either side of the Mason-Dixon line: southern Pennsylvania, northern Maryland, and a few snippets of Delaware. It's close enough to anything (as distinguished from anybody) I might want to see on the spur of the moment, and it's not smack-dab in the middle of a Major Metropolitan Area (though the eastern end of it is highly Philadelphia-oriented). I won't consider this, though, unless I've gotten to the point where I don't have to work and I can just bang the drum all day. (The chances of this, alas, are fairly slim.)
(If you missed out on this little exercise, it will be repeated at some point, probably when I'm desperately scratching around for a topic.)
TrackBack: 1:42 PM, 9 September 2003
» The Letter of the Day is D from Electric Venom
D is for Dustbury, who got naked for me. D is for do it. It needs to be done. D is for Dean Watch and dumb things Democrats do. D is for Dai Chalupan and doing damn well. D is for Damen and a divine deconstruction. D is for "dongs." D is for Dong Resin......[read more]