Internet research results: Pants in, Don Knotts out
I was just sitting here writing a post about how my mom took my kids for the weekend (I knew she was doing it, though, it’s not like the time she took my $500) and Betsey Booms DM’s me on Twitter to tell me to check out her zombie bread post, and it occurred to me that I’m apparently writing about the wrong things because her ruminations on mold and zombies and comically large illustrated boobs got 14 comments, whereas my last post about being a dad and writing a book got me two comments. And it’s not like I’m totally bowled over by 14 comments (sorry Betsey), but it’s more that 2 comments makes me want to stuff fish into my shirt and run in circles until I collapse.
(At this point, you’re looking at me and thinking, “He’s really so shallow that he’s measuring his worth in comments?” And I’m looking back at you and saying, “Yes, all comedians are painfully insecure, and by the way, stop looking at me because this is a blog and what are you, some sort of a ninja superstar with a telescope or something? And then I realize that I’m just talking to myself because ninjas don’t use telescopes.)
But I’m not helpless. Instead, I’m starting to cobble together a bulleted list of things that internet browsers like. I figure that there has to be a way to turn this list into some sort of superstar Yoda website that uses the Force and shit and then I’ll make millions of dollars. So here we go:
• You like nerds (two on this one: here and here).
Or perhaps more accurately, you like being nerds, and you like being able to dish with fellow nerds. This makes sense, because you’re all on the internet reading blogs, and I don’t think Chuck McPerfecthairgiantpenis from the high school football team knows what a blog is, and if he did, he’d never be able to read it through all of the naked cheerleaders.
• You like when I talk about holidays being gay
And apparently when I skirt the boundaries of good taste. However, I did have a comment by a black lesbian on that one who essentially said I was cool. Well, not cool, maybe, but she did imply that my post wasn’t totally gay.
• You like pants and Germans
This makes less sense, but I’m going to try to seed my posts from here on out with more mentions of various types of pants and will attempt to do it in German, or else will talk about German pants. You’d think I’d be out because I’ve already covered lederhosen, but what, do you think all Germans walk around all day in lederhosen? They sure as hell do not. I challenge you to call five Germans and ask what kinds of pants they are wearing. Try it.
• One reader, Jenny the Bloggess, likes it when I link to her. I know this because when I do, she’ll often comment on my blog, probably because she gets pinged with a trackback. So I’m going to try it and see what happens. (I enjoy this because it’s like trapping a wildebeest. I set out bait and wait to see if she’ll emerge, like on Wild Kingdom, and in my head is this narrator who’s all like, “The mating habits of the popular and profane mommy blogger range from the obscure to the mundane” and shit.)
• You also seem to like it when I talk about things that aren’t funny
What the hell is that about? This is supposed to be a funny site. What are you, a bunch of gay German nerds?
The things you don’t like include Mad Libs, Don Knotts, comic books, and fatherhood.
Which is really pretty messed up when you think about it. I mean, just look at Don Knotts:
You know what? I can’t totally eliminate Don Knotts from my writing no matter how you all feel. I’m going to target the lucrative Don Knotts niche from here on out. And I’ll even bet Don Knotts wears pants, so it’s a crossover thing, like when Shania Twain became mainstream and made classic rock fans cry righteous metal tears of awesomeness. I mean, I’m pretty sure Don is dead now, but I also bet they buried him in pants, because when you go to the Pearly Gates, St. Peter is liable to punish the pantsless and be like, “HEY! No pants, no shoes, no salvation!” And then you have to go to Hell where nobody wears pants, and the irony is that you’re totally comfortable because you’re not wearing pants but are also in a dimension of total, constant discomfort, and it probably irks Satan something fierce and makes him want to enforce a pants rule, but he can’t, because let’s fact it, it’s Hell for Satan, too.