Sparkle and sisal


Typepad, the host of this blog, had an extended outage over the weekend. I didn't even notice because who cares about blogs anymore? Not me! But the company's repeated mea culpas eventually filtered through into my Twitter feed and caused me to think about this site for the first time in months.

At the very same time, what's-his-face bought Twitter, and even if he doesn't wreck the platform, the spectacle of his running it probably will. Right now my entire feed is consumed by him, each stupid little business decision he makes, and how colossally dumb he is for making each of those decisions, and he'll be broke within months, selling Tesla for scrap metal--unless he uses his new and awesome power to completely wreck the United States and turn us over to Saudi Arabia. Or something. It's a lot. 

I started tweeting about my irritation with all this but then I realized I was just giving more oxygen to the thing that's annoying me because it's taking up all the oxygen. You can't win, you know? So before I could finish the sentence I was typing I said, "Oh, shut up," to...myself? everyone else on Twitter? everyone in the world? and closed my laptop.

Anyway, I like Twitter. I rely on it for news; I like chatting on there and posting inconsequential things to a small group of family and friends. And I have always been a newshound, so I enjoy drinking from its overwhelming firehose, even when I start to suspect it might be eroding my mental health a skosh. 

But right now it's no fun on there; even clowning Elon Musk gets old pretty quick, it turns out, and I don't really want to add my content, inane as it is, to that asshole's site. Which is inconsistent of me because Mark Zuckerberg is also a democracy-destroying bozo, and I happily post on Instagram all the time. I'm not that principled.

I don't know, what I'm trying to say is that a number of things happened this weekend that made me think about posting on my own site that I pay for and (sort of) designed and own the content to, and not only that, I remembered that November is traditionally NaBloPoMo, the incredibly stupid abbreviation for "National Blog Posting Month," a spinoff of the equally terribly named "NaNoWriMo," which is short for National Novel Writing Month, during which masochists endeavor to write an entire novel in what is tied for the second-shortest month of the year. (Now that I've said that, I'm pretty sure I wrote this exact same sentence last year when I started this challenge, but I'm not going to go back to check until I publish this. I'll let you know!) 

Anyway, this is just shy of 2500 characters to say I'm back, for this month at least. Hi! I missed you. I have a new dog. He's weird but nice. See you tomorrow! 

UPDATE: Yes! I may not be consistent in my willingness to help further enrich evil billionaires by posting on their websites, but I am quite consistent in my disdain for the NaBloPoMo portmanteau. (NaBloPoMonteau?) (Oh, shut up.) 


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