Sunday, November 6, 2011

Why don't you like cash?

Based on the number of people reading this (that's right, I've gone into the future) and the referring links (the places where you clicked my link) I know you people are reading.

Hopefully, I haven't scared you off at this point!

My guess is you're following me privately?

Are you ashamed of me? Are you ashamed of yourself for liking me? Do you not like me? Do you not like cash? More importantly, do you not like me with more cash?

The way this whole blogging thing works is as follows:

1. I start writing because I enjoy it because it relieves the pressure in my head let's go with because I enjoy it.

2. You begin reading me because you pity me because you think I am funny and I discover brand new things for you like strike through insights.

3. You comment on all many some of my posts.

4. You follow me and link to my blog from your blog, share me on Facebook, etc.

5. My readership continues to climb, and as it does, your friends adore you for turning them on to me (wow, that sounded unnecessarily kinky)

6. As my readership soars, commercial type enterprises take notice and want to advertise on my site.

7. In parallel, publishing houses take notice and want to sign me to a book deal.

8. Revenue from well placed, tasteful, relevant and like minded advertisers rolls in.

9. Book deals roll in and as a result, more cash.

10. Did I mention cash?

11. You get the satisfaction of knowing me when and being there at the beginning.

12. With all that cash, I begin to start throwing lavish catered parties and inviting everyone I know.

13. I realize that I know too many people and while having all of you bringing wedding presents at all my children's weddings is great, the cost of feeding you at same is more than I can bear.

14. I begin shedding my lower income friends like fur coats in summer.

15. My wife begins to feel I am superficial and leaves me.

16. I settle with her and start dating super models, who have more headaches than people with brain tumors.

17. I realize that my new friends are all snobs named Muffy and Biff who don't want to read my blog or know what I am thinking. I make an ass of myself a few remarks at a high-brow function and I am ostracized.

18. I end up like a bad country song with no girl, no house, no truck, only in this song I don't have any redneck friends!!!

OH! I see what you did there. Thanks for looking out for me.


  1. 19. Your true friends forgive you, eventually, and maybe even treat you to pizza or a burger.  Certainly nothing more expensive than that, as they *were* disposed of like trash after Christmas...

  2. This made me laugh out loud...and I totally relate. Looking forward to the lavish catered parties, by the way...




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