Blunt Wit

So I got to cogitating the other day about blogs and blogging. I realized this phenomenon has become more than just a passing fad. I tried to distill the greatest benefits of blogging to mankind in my own mind. I got it down to two lofty contributions.

First, blogging rights the wrongs in society and makes the world a better, happier, and most of all, safer place. By the miracle of technology, bloggers transform into enlightened gadflies to the refuse of society. They make paparazzi look noble. I mean, I know fer sure that I am so much better off seeing that Britney’s pet cocker spaniel “Longfellow” threw up on her Manolos.

The other key benefit to blogging is commerce. Sites like eBay and Craigslist simply just don’t cut it – too big and impersonal. Bloggers, on the other hand, build quaint havens away from the crowds. Like little virtual corner stores of old. They have the distinct advantage of knowing their audience and their most intimate desires.

For instance, I know many of you are car buffs and thus I have decided to present you with a unique opportunity to buy my car.

This ’65 Chevy is a beaut.

I bought this screamer from a Grandmother who only used it to drive to church on Sundays so very low mileage. She runs great! And since windshield and windows are missing no need for air conditioning which just lowers your gas mileage anyway. I’m listing her for $999 but am willing to negotiate.

So tell me, what do you see as the biggest benefits of blogging?

So I have a bad habit of taking a perfectly good poem and wrecking it with my imagination. My apologies to Billy Blake and his wonderful little ditty “The Tyger” (reprinted below for your reading pleasure.)

The Brytany
Brytany, Brytany, burning bright
In the nightclubs in plain sight,
What immoral hand or eye
Could feel up thy fearful symmetry?

In what deep fat-fryer lies?
Burnt food to show up on thy thighs?
With Kevin what kids doth thy sire?
What the band dare seize the liar?

And what boulder and what fart
Could pinch the nose – “PU’s” – of thy tart?
And when thy fart began to stink
What dread band and what dread lip-sync?

What the MC Hammer? What the Alice in Chains?
In what sternness was thy vain?
What the advil? What dread gasp
Dare its deadly voice rasp?

When the stars threw down their Spears
And watered heaven with their beers,
Did He test His work to pee?
Did He who ate the lamb roast thee?

Brytany, Brytany, burning bright
In the nightclubs in plain sight,
What immoral hand or eye
Could feel up thy fearful symmetry?

The Tyger
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?