My back has eased up considerably, but I'm still moving Gingerly, which I guess means that I'm wearing a tight sequined dress and a poofy red wig. Dang, I knew we shouldn't have seen Brokeback Mountain. (Just a joke, we didn't see the movie. And I ain't wearing the dress.) I have more one-liners about the movie. Yippie-I-gay. Homo on the range. Howdy, domestic partner. Head West, young man. Dances With Boys. And, when you think about it, some Western things don't have to change a bit to have a little ring of gay to them. Lash LaRue. Riders of the Purple Sage. A Fistful of Dollars. True Grit. Gunslinger. Blazing Saddles. Wait, I'll be right back. Clint Eastwood and John Wayne's ghost are here to kick my ass.
How do I get off on stuff like that? It's like my fingers get possessed.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
And Now A Word From Our Sponsors
In an effort to justify having a blog at all, I have signed up for Google ads, as you can see. This works for me on so many levels. A move like this is what it takes to inspire someone to push themselves a little more, have a little more discipline, get some work out there, all under the guise of possible payment. My first motivating factor here is good, old-fashioned greed. I just want to see if and how much money I can generate from this. There are several ways to get paid by Google, and I plan to explore them deeper as time goes on. For now, the ad plan will do.
Second, any income stream generated by a project like this is a concrete way to verify that you are actually, indeed, being read. What an ego boost. If someone clicks on an ad, then it means that they saw my blog. Accidently or on purpose, it doesn't matter. The hole in this theory is that you could have run across someone who randomly clicks on ads, thereby never actually reading anything. And there are those who belive that, in my case, not reading is as it should be, but I hate those guys anyway, so who cares. I digress.
Everyone who ever wrote something wants to know it was read, by someone. A grade-schooler with an English essay has the same wish as a famous author. Both want someone to read and acknowledge their stuff. Granted, if you publish 10,000 copies of a book, you stand a better chance of having an audience, but a much diminished possibility of getting a bunch of them back with red pencil marks all over them.
So, if you're compelled, click on an ad. This, and maybe a couple of other times a week, will be the last time I beg for this type of treatment. Really.
Second, any income stream generated by a project like this is a concrete way to verify that you are actually, indeed, being read. What an ego boost. If someone clicks on an ad, then it means that they saw my blog. Accidently or on purpose, it doesn't matter. The hole in this theory is that you could have run across someone who randomly clicks on ads, thereby never actually reading anything. And there are those who belive that, in my case, not reading is as it should be, but I hate those guys anyway, so who cares. I digress.
Everyone who ever wrote something wants to know it was read, by someone. A grade-schooler with an English essay has the same wish as a famous author. Both want someone to read and acknowledge their stuff. Granted, if you publish 10,000 copies of a book, you stand a better chance of having an audience, but a much diminished possibility of getting a bunch of them back with red pencil marks all over them.
So, if you're compelled, click on an ad. This, and maybe a couple of other times a week, will be the last time I beg for this type of treatment. Really.
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