I search every day for new blogs to read and subscribe to. So far, I've found about a dozen, like this one, written by a Welsh-Armenian woman in Passaic, or this one, written by a young Inuit woman, or this, by a woman whose wit and charm never fail to amuse me.
My list of OS favorites, unfortunately, is fairly short.
That is because, to my disappointment (though not to my surprise), too much of the time you people suck balls.
As a fantastically successful journalist, published author of several well-reviewed - and published, did I mention they've been published? - books, and all around disapproving schoolmarm, I'm really fussy. I mean, really, really, ree-heeelly fussy. My attention is already thinly sliced between self-congratulation, searching every day for new blogs to read and subscribe to, free-lance origami, and my life - which, by the way, is infinitely more fulfilling than y0urs.
For me to devote further attention to your work, I need, and must have, a powerful reason to give you -- pathetic as your scribblings usually are -- my most precious resource.
My time. You'd think the fact that I spend so much of it searching every day for new blogs to read and subscribe to means I don't really have anything important to do, but you'd be wrong. As usual.
Anyway, this is why so many of you suck so badly:
The blog is too personal. If I can't tell, within one or two sentences, what you're talking about, I'm gone. What the previous sentence had to do with the blog being too personal I can't say, but it tickled me because I got to write "I'm gone." I thought about writing "I'm outta here" but that's entirely too colloquial.
It is riddled with spelling mistakes or bad grammar. I have no time to read material which, while it may be interesting for its message or its originality, shows insufficient anal retentiveness.
It's boring. Frankly, that is because you are boring. If you were more interesting I wouldn't have needed to include this one.
It's unoriginal. Since everything has already been said before, usually by someone more talented than you, it's not what we say but how we say it that will intrigue readers and keep them returning. For this one it's useful to remember that style trumps content.
It never goes meta. I admit it, I'm a big fan of meta posts -- posts about blogging. Because, as I may have mentioned, I search every day for new blogs to read and subscribe to. The only thing that interests me more than blogging - and perhaps myself - is writing that is about blogging.
You don't write about free-lance origami. Things which interest me are fascinating, so if you don't write about them you can expect nothing from me but disdain.
Your fans are too gushy. I read comments carefully, sometimes hundreds of them, to see who's reading your blog. If you can't keep commenters from being too fulsome in their praise, you are obviously complicit in it and therefore beneath me.
You're not funny. Though I myself have no discernible sense of humor, if you can make me laugh, I'm yours for life. Seriously!
You fail to move me. If your blog is focused on personal material, I want you to make me feel something -- how sad you are, how thrilled you felt when. Make me laugh or cry or get angry! Of course, since I've already stated that I don't read posts which are too personal, how sad or thrilled you are isn't likely to make me laugh or cry or get angry because I don't bother with that sort of self indulgent crap.
You don't revise or edit your work. How often do you bang it out, in an urgent frenzy to share your views with the world, and hit "publish" right away? If this is your automatic habit, time to re-think, loser.
You spend too little time describing your accomplishments. This one is critical. If I'm going to expend my precious time on your blog, I expect it to be replete with discussions of how many books you've had published and just how generally fantastic you are.
You never use visuals. A sea of words is tedious and lacks imagination, just like you. One would think, given that I'm obviously a person of superior literary taste, I'd be happy with the written word alone, but visuals, as I've learned in my career as a phenomenally successful journalist, can make or break an article. Just ask Bat Boy.

You never link to anyone else's work or ideas. No one is that fascinating, especially you. Show me who else you enjoy, preferrably someone as talented as me, or failing that, some woman who's Welsh-Armenian or Inuit.
You think the medium is cool enough on its own. Not for me. I come from the media of print, having worked for three major daily newspapers, so please don't presume to think anything you do is cool enough on its own. I was an editor at four monthly magazines, so my sense of what's cool trumps yours. Every journalist I have ever met is acutely aware of one thing -- intense and growing competition for their work. You too, though you're fairly pathetic, need to be aware of that competition, and of the fact that my time is extremely valuable. Writing has to be not too personal, perfectly edited, rich with visual content, about origami, and just generally amazing, stupendous, fantastic, and stunning, or as close as someone like you can get, to win my attention.
I expect no less from your blog.


Salon.com
Comments
Anyway, I invented it!
And my name is written in a book, does that count?
A definite deal breaker for me.
`R
Stiffed by my sno ho's, I have nothing better (that I can afford) to do tonight, than drink listerine-nyquil shots and ride this ill punctuated and rather boring horse of the blogging apocalypse 'til it drops.
What a gift we have been given!
Jeanette, you said it.
I once bowled a perfect game, sober, in someone else's shoes, on Groundhog Day and with a 10 pound blue ball. On the opening night of the 1998 World Series, I tossed out the first ball. I missed home plate, the catcher, the backstop and hit a coked out Wall Street turd iin the fifth row squarely in the face. I write award-winning operas on fortune cookies.
I can tread water for three days in a row, pausing only to feed my three-legged aardvark. I woo women with my sensous and godlike cow bell playing. i am an expert in stucco, a novice in Judo and I built my bungalow with just Lego. I can cook thirty-minute brownies in under twenty minutes on my E-Z bake oven.
I seduced Mary Ann of Gilligan's Island without a banana cream pie or a radio made from from a coconut...but by employing my powers of head hunting and hammock weaving. Each Arbor Day. I take a chainsaw and cut off the legs of Mel Gibsons' grand piano. I batted .400 in the Mexican Negro League. I craft intricate rubenesque sculptures of Baltimore's drag queens out of cottage cheese. Using just a spatula, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon basin from ferocious army ants.
I surfed down the east slope of Mt. Everest. i enjoy urban hang gliding. I ran the Boston Marathon with scissors....I finished 148th. On each Earth Day, Uma Thurman pays me a visit and harvests my belly button lint. i carved a totem pole in the likeness of Marcia Brady. I will not kill Dick Cheney. I found Waldo and lost my favorite bong at Waldo Lake. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy parachute pants. Last summer I toured Rhode Island with a traveling band of xenophobes. I kicked Chuck Norris's ass. My clever floral arrangement have earned me international acclaim in botany circles.
Children trust me. Dogs admire me. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. On Wednesdays, after my underwater tango class, I repair 8-tracks free of charge. I have performed covert operations for the Polish Navy. The laws of physics do not apply to me, but I never litter. Whlie on vacation in Idaho I successfully negotiated a truce with a hardened group of Amish Tea Partiers who had seized a small zipper factory. I frolic. I will not kill Dick Cheney. I have crafted amazing four-course meals using just a lighter and a Swiss Army knife. I have won bullfights in Sri Lanka, cliff dives in Mongolia and spelling bees in Laos. As a drug mule in the late eighties I was able to bring three ounces of the finest grade Spam through Turkey.
I am many things. I am full of a lot of things. But I can not eat 50 eggs.
By way of full disclosure, I at first thought Snippy had beaten me to the parody draw, but I then saw she hadn't gone the route of mean-spiritedly taking a cheap shot at someone who only had our best interests at heart, nor has she shamelessly whored her post as I did on hers. It nearly makes me feel like a bitch.
"Your fans are too gushy." Yes, that one's the most ridiculous...love your parody.
Off to the CVS for more listerine... plenty of nyquil on hand.
Deep breaths!
READ MY POST ON THIS SUBJECT HERE BECAUSE IT'S WAY BETTER WRITTEN AND PUNCTUATED
"I'm Caitlin Kelly, and I approve this message."
But if you will excuse me, I have to go edit my last post. I did, indeed, find tense issues. 14 out of 15 isn't bad, or is editing a deal break for you?
JK: {HUGS}
Judging from her resume, methinks the woman can't hold a job
But, let me say as a former newspaperman, puh-lease. It's "medium of print" not "media". Marshall McLuhan is spinning in his grave.
(piddles on carpet while 15 minutes of fame slowly dissipate)
PS- My blog sucks for a lot more than 14 reasons. And I really should be on your short list.
Oh well, never mind. I enjoyed this post alot. And origami! That seems like a viable antidote to many woes...
My fingers are so sore from my beloved Kleenex weaving.
ROFLM( )AO
And content will always trump style. Style is good, it can certainly make otherwise compelling content suffer, but there is no engaging or illustrative way to say nothing. Seinfeld wasn't actually a show about "nothing". Every episode revolved around the quirks of some eccentric.
Grif, did you learn the double-rate thing from Cindy R__s? I wonder whatever happened to her?
Friends, OSers, seekers of the phalanx, I realize this post is a departure from my preferred ouevre, which is Stygian poetry, but please know that I had your best interests at heart here. While I'd like to condescend to each of you personally, little paper cranes and flowers don't fold themselves, and besides, the stress of wondering if I surpass Snippy in the feed is giving me the megrims. If any of you wish to receive further mentoring, please submit your CVs to my receptionist.
"Judging from her resume, methinks the woman can't hold a job"
("dang" mutered under his breath....)
Lezlie
And your ratings! Why, it only took 12 of your 27 different personas to get to this level, while I am barely worthy to have one of those precious gems. I, who have only one simple persona that slinks among the lesser seen corners of this hub bub of literary activity, will turn to the wall as the great ones pass by so as not to offend them and to lose their grace.
I am so inspired right now that I must dash off to write my greatly improved blog, which will be a treatise on why vaginas so closely resemble clams and testicles so closely resemble walnuts in appearance and how it is all related to our origins in the primordial soup.
hmmmm...soup......
*leaves by slowly and carefully bowing and walking backward, in demonstration of utmost respect for the greatest blogger ever to grace the pages of Open Saloon*
do you like recipes? do you like frugal living? do you like true tales? check mine out and feel free to criticize, I would almost take it like a compliment.
:::tossing rose petals:::
I read Foolish Monkey.
I love the wild neighbor.
A cheap country woman.
Red woodpecker chuckle.
It sounds like a giggler monkey that pecks dead bug larvae all day in the woods. I always smile.
The Red Woodpecker is`
No Foolish Monkey?
She Peck and giggles.
She a feathered bird.
Cheapcountrywoman, if this thread proves anything it's that a lot of comments don't necessarily equate to a worthy post.
Xenon, your deference, while satisfying to my desire for adulation, has more than a hint of insinceritude. I'm looking forward to your findings vis a vis the appearance of our naughty bits.
Natalie, it was buried in amongst a bunch of other stuff in my inbox but I've answered now. If you don't forgive me I know not what I'll do. :(
Lezlie, Ardee, sometimes symmetry and spelling bee victories are all we need to get us by.
You must be an intelligent and discerning reader of poetry which makes you OK by me.
rated with love
rated again with love
Mr. Blevins, "meta" is the Greek word for "M."
Art! As always after you come by, anything I might say would be irrelevant. A redheaded woodpecker comes to my house every year and hammers on the galvanzied iron flashing at the base of my chimney.
And Snippy, don't bare your teeth at me, just don't! My last post, Stygian as it was, sank with barely a whimper into the OS limbo, settling to the bottom like the bloated, eviscerated carcass of a dead pilot whale.
And, uh, what Jeanette said.
Myriad, if you won't take my advice there's nothing I can do for you.
RomanticPoetess, I was confused for a moment there, but I'm adding your other self now.
Mr. Fett, it's odd but I was thinking of Ghidra as I wrote this.
Jane, thanks for the vote of confidence for Bat Boy. Thank you also for being the inspiration for my first-ever parody post. Remember those days? I miss when you were a St. Bernard. :(
Cathy, run-on sentences, when done properly, are an art form in and of themselves.
And Fred, I'll tell you how you feel when I'm good and ready.
Xenonlit xl is one of your alts, isn't she!
FFS, who do you think you are, David Price???
And i made a pact with Drew....I will kill Dick Cheney for her.
by others...
But....
Os's modus vivendus
and not to mention raison d'etre is also in the comment stream....
spontaneity can produce art
that is raw, unedited, ungrammatical, unproofreadable
because devised in the now...
Outwitting other people is boring to me
because I am so damn original...
but even I
often steal from the voices in my head
forming me moment to moment
with facts, judgments and feelings....
and these voices are deeply plaguristic of the spiderweb of dead souls
glimmeringly supporting our momentary existence...
so
i steal from theives....
except when the gods and goddesses and even God
send me a thought,
which i just record....
(if os comments had SOUND
they would be more accurate
and more interesting of the author's intentions..
posts, too...)
etc
Mr. Wolf, Amy, Mr. Gamble, Mr. Fawkes, Inverted, Mr. Gamble, Mr. Sunshine, Snippy, three cheers for this post surpassing Snippy's at the top of the feed. Hip hip HOORAY!
By the way, you wrote, "It is riddled with spelling mistakes or bad grammar. I have no time to read material which, while it may be interesting for its message or its originality, shows insufficient anal retentiveness. "
Are you referring to "bad grammar" such as not surrounding a nonrestrictive clause with commas? A true anal retentive knows that the comma is placed before "which," so that your sentence should be punctuated as "... read material, which while it may ... originality, shows ...."
Or perhaps you might have realized that "shows insufficient anal retentiveness" restricts "to read material," hence, you should have used "that" instead of "which."
If you can't be bothered with learning the basics of the language, I certainly can't be bothered with your writing.
I don't see the big deal here-why are so many taking offense? Hell, I was called out and told to get a hobby for being a tad bit---a teensy weensy bit personal. That was a dart in the bum. Happy Writing and keep plugging the keys.
Is that Natalie up there?
NATALIE!
And every time I have made the mistake of hastily publishing a blog posting without letting it sit for a day or so, the net effect is a lot like the regret which one might feel after a night of excessive drinking ("Good Lord, (choke), did I really say that?").
Here I go again, sinking to the depths of the OS abyss, slipping down through the feed like the calcareous remains of dead zooplankton. I will now resort to answering each comment with a comment of my own so as to put off my return to obscurity as long as possible.
I haven't heard of fuckmuppetry or dick-o-lero in ages! This is truly going retro, but only for we truly tenured folk who brought such brilliance to OS.
The place was dead common before we got here.
Not an ordinary thermos for you!
But the extra best thermos you can buy,
With vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in!
I'm picking out a thermos for you!
And maybe a barometer too!
And what else can I buy,
So on me you'll rely,
A rear-end thermometer too!"
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Yeah, so very very true. I hope someday, if I live that long, my life will be almost as fulfilling as yours!!
**REAL TEARS**
My blog sucks but it swallows too.
**Wanders off**
Junk1, your servile tone pleases me. I've added you to my favorites list, but it's on a probationary basis.
Trudge, this post isn't a platform for you to critique my blog; it's a platform for me to tell you yours sucks.
Between them and your "vile extrusions" they're gonna "R" rate this site! :D
Unbreakable, mockery is the sincerest form of flattery, except for when we're making fun of someone.
Nikki, I actually had sixteen reasons but two of them were too mean to post here. I'm saving them for later.
Amy, please don't make fun of Zuma's psycho pants. She wears them with great aplomb.
Sorry, I didn't know about the aplomb thing because I could only see the front of her, but I do bet she does have a great aplomb and that the pants show it off nicely.
Drew, your party is still going on. They all left my house, and I'm still cleaning up. I wish Tom Cordle and Zuma hadn't puked in the kitty litter box.
eating a bagel from a pet shop
dancing with harpies who drink
though Beelzebub likes to think.
I came to this, as I said earlier, because of Trig. I was, however, unaware of what generated this post, only finding out from Trig's latest entry and following it to Caitlin Kelly's blog. So, I had no idea what you were doing when I first read it. It seemed tongue in cheek but kind of strange, like listening to an old Allan Sherman or Weird Al Yankovic recording without having heard their antecedents, which are of course the point.
I hope I'm alone here in being this uninformed. I have just developed a much greater appreciation for your work.
Very well done. It doesn't suck at all.
I say in my bio that I'm in my fifties. I was pretty young when Allan Sherman was big, actually too young to understand a lot of what he was singing about at the time.
I've always looked young, it runs in my family. (In business it's an asset now but was a liability when I first started. Taking five guys out to dinner at a convention and being the only one at the table getting carded had its disadvantages. That really happened to me when I was in my early twenties. I last got legitimately carded while buying wine at a supermarket when I was 42.) However, I'm trying to figure out how I manage to look young online.
And this is an example of "good" writing?
... My attention is already thinly sliced...
...pathetic as your scribblings usually are...
...but it tickled me because I got to write "I'm gone." I thought about writing "I'm outta here" but that's entirely too colloquial...
...It is riddled with spelling mistakes or bad grammar...
...no discernible sense of humor...
Work on some original writing yourself, and drop words like "doppelganger" which only enhance your image of affectation and "cast in bold" a "penchant" for authorial indulgence as a cover for a minimum of wit.
Padraig, I think you'd love my sushi carbonara.
And Major Mojo; to everything there is a season.
"Nichivo," she wailed, "nichiiiiiiivvvo!"
And no one cared.
BADDABING!
THANK YOU! Rated.
u may want to listen to what a few readers are saying, if you really want any more of them.
Chillerpop, thank YOU sir!
Mr. Sen, I personally don't give a rat's ass what you write or don't write on your blog. This was a parody of a post by someone else who does care and is quite up front about how badly you lesser bloggers suck. Thanks for your comment.
jesus took to the highways and met them,
quarrelled with them, and had the sense
to go back to Palestine, where the wine flows.
Oh but Zoroaster came down from the hills
soon after and said God does not exist.
Nietzsche documented it in his little book,
then fell into the vortex of insanity.
Christ journeyed on, to China, and the Sioux Nation.
God as he is, he is timeless.
He doesn't go by his real name anymore.
Too many cops on his trail.
He has some groupies who love his errant erotica,
though it is sophmoric, and hesitant.
But he is a virgin!
He will write it through YOU he says.
This Christly "through you" shit is nothing more than him saying,
go with it.
i caught the vibe, and girl.
it is your responsibility to spread this word.
the word of the day is love.
bad erotica is better than no erotica.
There are some who think Jesus travelled East and picked up some of the notions then au courant in that region. It would explain a few things. Regarding Nietsche, I think he was born insane. Anyone who confuses Social Darwinism for morality is a sociopath. His *philosophy* was a big influence on Hitler and Co., and that seems a sorry legacy to me.
Waiting now for the spirit of Christly erotica to take me. I hope I don't start speaking in tongues or have a seizure like the Pentecostals do.
as for mr. Nietzsche, he is woefully misunderstood.
he went insane in the street trying to save a horse from
being beaten to death.
sure he's obnoxious! but that was done for what
we now call
shock value.
His biggest fear was: his legacy.
He was right.
As for Jesus, if he didn't take to the highway
(the Roman roads of the Caesar Augustus era)
from age 12 to 33, then he aint't no godman of mine.
Some say he went to India, & china too!
And whether he did or not,
we gotta say he was a heck of an improv comic.
so this is where the cool/insomniac kids hang out *note to self*
My soul is a mirror
Reflecting only broken dreams
And madness
A cracked doppelganger
Of endless solitude
My soul is a darkened dwelling
Remote from warmth
Knowing not the giddiness of joy
Whipped by a chill wind of despair
On the moors of loneliness
My soul is a desert
Inhabited by coyotes of decay
Haunted by scorpions
Barbed tails dripping
Droplets of Stygian sorrow
first reaction was i like the ideas here...like the metaphor of the desert lots.
my second reaction is the usual (for me when asked): show me dont tell me.
for example :
My soul is a mirror
Reflecting only broken dreams
And madness
tells me, but i dont learn anything... what does it look like? sound & smell like? what is its texture. what broken dreams? what does the madness look like or sound like? for a poem to succeed it has to touch on a commonality ...something the reader can recognize, and since we dont experience the world in words...we experience it in sight sound taste etc, its easier for us to relate/be reached when the poet uses those types of descriptions.
this:
Inhabited by coyotes of decay
Haunted by scorpions
Barbed tails dripping
comes much closer to what i mean, but i would even extend the metaphor further by filling in the sense images. coyotes of decay is great... barbed tails dripping too. they evoke images.
theres a lot of good stuff going on in the poem and the idea is good too. i think it would benefit from less words & more images...if that makes sense.
of course i am a minimalist at heart, so there ya go.
Can you put me down for 2 "Drew-Silla Variety Packs", some Quaaludes and 5 boxes of Thin Mints.
Thank you iq
I am very disappointed, the comments you left on my post, with your childish mentality. You speak in this post, with a superiority complex, which I am sure is a front for your shortcomings. In life, we are all clueless, including you. It is the one that seeks the Wisdom of the Truth that allows them to walk further up the road and away from cluelessness.
You said,” As usual Mr. Fawkes makes a lot of sense. If Tommy can't *live free* in a Teabagger paradise, it is my sincere wish that he at least die trying.
I guess you have shown yourself to be merely another progressive puppet. You have entered the “Political Arena”. You try to make yourself out to be more than what you are, yet you have just shown your true nature. You are using arrogance and delusionary thinking as a means of drawing attention to your lonely pathetic soul. I am sure you are a very lonely person crying out for help. Reading your posts, one can see that there is a hole in your heart that you are trying to fill and not succeeding. Your soul is crying tears of loneliness and screaming out for attention.
BTW Drew Silla, the statement should read, you cannot “Live Free’ in a socialist paradise. Your sincere wish for me to “die trying”, may very well come true. I am up to the task and honored to die for Freedom against Tyranny. Drew Silla, I do not wish for you to die, I wish for you to become enlightened to the Truth. The hole in your dark heart may just get to be filled in with God’s Truth. Talk to Jesus Drew Silla, only He can complete you. I mean that in complete sincerity, just try it.
Die Fahne hoch die Reihen fest geschlossen
S. A. marschiert mit ruhig festem Schritt!
Kam'raden die Rotfront und Reaktion erschossen
Marschier'n im Geist in unsern Reihen mit!
you= a woman. buncha rules.
play "born in the usa " by springsteen
and then
seger's "we got tonight"
and then if yr vampire head can contain it,
some dylan.
like "it aint me" .then "shelter fr the storm"
then his latest, his & my collaboration,
"tangled up in black (u go blac k u never go back)"
starts:
"early one evening the moon was rising
i was laying in bed
wonderin if her head had changed
if she wuz still red.
her folks and mine they blessed our union
sayin ya get the mama for no charge
and the sister for spare change.
me? i am still on the road,
hunting the stripjoints for that gal,
the one who offered me the pipe
and the artjames to digest."
etc
to
pull it out of the
Uncryptic:
it says you're a swell gal & a darn bigmouth
as so many great gals are. like emily dickinson,
whom art james
brought to our attention today.
i got him running in crop circles, ha.
(tease)
"the Wind____tapped like a tired man"
number 436.