It has come to my attention that more than 50 people think my writing is interesting enough to follow. Or stalk. I had two initial reactions:
First: Good God, people, what are you thinking?!
Second: Thank you!
Oh, and the third was to thank you all for not following too fast, because I made a bet with a blogtroll that if I had 3K followers by the start of June, I’d quit following two other bloggers I dearly loved. And I won. So since I won the bet, if you’ve been lingering, languishing or lurking in the light, not following the darkness that is Deon Mumple, go ahead and sign up now, if you dare. Or if you’re crazy enough.
And the fourth was the instinct to dig a deeper cavern in my secret underground bunker, which I’ll make the time to do this coming weekend. There’s no time until then because, well, I’ll be partying with all of you all week. 50 fellow partiers will take time to celebrate, and then of course to recover from the celebrations. And cake. Which kind to bake…? I think maybe a fruity flavor, like orange or lemon or something. Orange with Chocolate icing sounds just tempting, which leaves one wondering if I have any orange flavored extract in the bunker’s kitchen. Damned if I’m not all out of Grand Marnier, the better to flavor it with, my dear. (so now I’m the big Bad Wolf, too. As a Doctor Who fan, and also a fan of fairy tales, that’s pretty damned funny.) Makes me wish I had a personal chef. Or just money and space to buy all the ingredients and foods I like.
To the blogtroll, fuck you. And to any other blogtrolls or wanna-bees, fuck you too. Find something better to do with your time than to fuck with other bloggers, or you’ll wake up one day and realize three important truths: 1) you’ve been accomplishing less than nothing, 2) you’re a worthless sack of crap, and 3) nobody likes you, not even your mother. She wants you out of her basement and into your own fucking apartment, you pathetic loser.
This blog is just kind of a lunatic asylum for me. I’m able to vent my anger in a healthier way than hitting people or yelling at people or having an aneurism, a less expensive way than hitting people with my car. I’m able to vent my feelings of sadness and manic, and commiserate with my fellow travelers on the road with all its’ ups and downs. I’ll raise a toast to you all tonight, as I’ve a nearly empty bottle of something that I need to retire.
I can write whatever the hell I want, positive, negative; truth, lies, and bullshit; fiction, culture, complaint, commendation, poetry, profanity, profundity, lunacy, idiocy, randomness, and even religious or counter-religious, and I like it. I lurk here safely in my bunker and await the end of the world, or the end of Deon. I expect it’s a toss-up which will come first.
I’ve already confessed, I’m not cooler online. I’m just fucked-up Deon online and probably even more fucked-up offline. My opinion, maybe I’m just the same Deon in both places, but I do like to write a bit, and it might just be some shit I made up. It’s fun. Or cathartic.
That’s the benefit of the blogosphere, the blogiverse, whatever you call this grand thing. I might enjoy reading yours, or not. And I can say whatever I need to say. I used to say I dislike all of you evenly, but I confess, the frosting is thicker in some places on this cake.
Speaking of which, I think I’ll bake a cake tonight. You’re all invited back to my secret bunker for a slice of it. But bring two beverages- one for you, and one for me, or I’ll have nothing to toast you with in person, to thank you for your crazed curiosity. Maybe someone will bring some Grand Marnier.
You encourage me when I’m discouraged, and I hope I do the same.
Thank you for your support. I’m reading what you’re writing, and I hope you’ll keep on writing it.