Today we celebrate our two-year blogiversary together. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me spending my mornings with you these last two years, slamming coffee and staring into your screen, fingers gently caressing the keyboard as you bring out my innermost thoughts.
I recognize that this is an outstanding achievement and many blogs never make it past the first year. I believe this is because the traditional one-year anniversary gift is "paper", which is kind of self-defeating when you think about it. Wouldn't that be like your wife bringing you a hooker as an anniversary gift?
But I digress.
Blog, while this blogiversary should be a joyous occasion, I have a confession to make. I entered into this relationship under false pretenses. I know you are aware that my wandering eye has been seeing other blogs, but as I've been reminded time and again these last few years, "why buy the dictionary when you can get the words for free"? No, what I am referring to is much more sinister than that.
I started with you two years ago like a spy who infiltrates the enemy camp to look for an advantage. Now don't get your widgets in a twitter until you hear me out. We are oil and water, you and me. You're a blog on the internet and I am a print newspaper man. Our relationship was doomed from the start as I recognized years ago that you were threatening my livelihood. I guess I was hoping to do a Jack Bauer and either find the internet power cord from the inside and pull the plug, or at the very least - be the one to figure out how to neutralize and monetize your pages. But alas! My dream of having 35 paid subscribers to match Newsday's impressive tally is still but a dream.
But then we began to dance. Slowly at first, as if taking each other's full measure. Then our tempo increased as our synchronized choreography of word thingys started to draw attention. Sure, much of our traffic has been due to pet owners googling to find out why their dogs have begun to suffer from chattering teeth, but that's beside the point. Lately, our dance has become more feverish still - a veritable symbiotic ballet of cacophonous blurtings. But then...
While I do blame you for my recent layoff, I admit I still find you attractive, blog. With each new bill invoice that arrives in my mailbox, I hunger for the ability to eat your words. You... complete... me.
OK, even that made ME feel kind of icky, but what were you expecting? Billy Shakespeare?
I do want to thank all of you who have danced with me these last two years. You really are like an extended family, as we share the best we can in each others triumphs, trajedies and mere setbacks. I appreciate all of you more than you know. Thanks for being there and for being so encouraging.
Shall we dance?
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