Been awhile since-t we had one of these, so there is much to report on the Global Media Domination front.
Beavers continue to do well, particularly after I scandalized a certain blogging conference with my references thereunto: one gathers they’re far more used to hearing terms like “Analytics” and “Clickthroughs” than anything more vividly … uh … castidoraean. Conclusion: Blogging about beavers is great for hits, but getting other people to blog about you blogging about beavers is truly Web 2.0.
Harshing on best-sellers in the comments sections of other people’s blogs is tonic for stats. If I wanted to win this, I’d simply say straight out that Dave Eggers’ prefaces and footnotes blow Jonathan Really Rather Ordinary and Mister Norell away, but I’m not like that…besides, Eggers has annoyed me recently.
Oo! Oo! I should pick a fight with Dave Eggers! He’s got a baby; no way is he well-rested enough to defend himself.
In other news, shoes are even better for hits than flamewars, particularly when the Manolo bypasses the two original-source articles I sent him and links directly to my own post. This takes me to my happy place and teaches me that there is divine justice in the world: those three pairs of fabulous shoes I bought on Robson Street were as sacrifices to the god of shoeblogging, and He looks after His Own, to the tune of perhaps six hundred extra hits over the weekend and a regained spot in the top 20 WordPress blogs and yay, finally! a temporarily regained place in Top Posts of the Day.
Not quite as good as blogging about shoes is blogging about crocheted bellydancing accessories; it may not bring as many hits, but it does bring prey, so that’s something. And, as always, flamewars bring out the necrophiliacs who gather around to watch the battle. I have no issue with people disagreeing with me: I have a major issue with people misrepresenting what I’ve written and being twofaced. And I have no issue at all with dumb, defensive, hypersensitive, condescending people; nope, no issue at all. It’s kill on sight.
Potentially more dangerous, or at least more criminal, are the readers of Court TV‘s forum who are fascinated (if, apparently, confused) by my post on the uselessness of Howard K. Stern‘s sperm. I mean, the rest of him is useless too; how hard can it be to figure out? But they can’t tell when I’m joking, when I’m quoting, or indeed, why any of this matters or if it matters at all. FWIW here’s a roundup: drug-abusing kid dies, junkie mother dies, rich baby held for ransom by lawyer with the paperwork and Larry Birkhead has the most obvious nose job in the history of the world. You’re welcome.
Also, broke 18k on Technorati. If this keeps up at the rate it’s been going, by this time in 2009 I will be the #1 blogger in the world.
*rubs hands together, mutters “eeeeeexcellent!“*
In Ego news, this is not designed to keep me humble; although truly it’s hard to imagine what could. That is obviously not a task to be undertaken by mortals, and Curtis has wisely chosen the easier path of flattery, may Azathoth poop ten-tentacled blessings upon him and ensure that he never glimpses the Unspeakable Pun at the Centre of the Universe and thus goes irrevocably insane.
Cuz then he couldn’t flatter me again, yo.
Curtis‘ technique is emulated by the esteemed and historic Juvenal of Bread and Circuses, although he fails to specify whether I am bread or circuses; I prefer to think of myself as some kind of fusion between the two, a juggling pop-tart, perhaps, or a particularly acrobatic type of crumpet, performing daring stunts on the back of a docile and magnificent Andalusian and no, I don’t mean Antonio Banderas.
But I am impervious to insult: