To All the Esquires I Have Known Before

A thoughtful reader sent me a letter. Rather than do the polite thing and respond in kind, I figure here is another shot at me winning the Pulitzer, so follow along, kids; I have blogging material. Now let’s hope that all of America decides to vote me in.

I am not the type who goes in search of new readers (not that I am adverse to having more readers; I am merely your basic lazy lazyman. If a company were to make a couch-potato doll, it would certainly resemble me. I am afraid my condition is terminal, and there seems to be no hope for a cure down the road, nor would I accept any offered treatments or prescribed pills or oily ointments). I am glad they stop by, though. I know they do, because my counter at the bottom keeps on clicking.

Now if you were to ask how I installed my handy tool to begin with, I would cry without shame about how I forget things, especially technical computery stuff. I do recall giving it a nice Tahitian name of feminine persuasion right away. She was so winsome and popular. But I am afraid even her classy moniker has now vaporized from memory. And yet she keeps on ticking.

I do check my little clicker everyday. That almost sounds medical, but it was unintended, for I really do. I average about twenty hits a day, and ten of those are probably due to curious me. I also recall when it once shot past one hundred. That was an exciting but scary day. I just knew at the time that I would get pulled over by a cop, so I ran and hid for an entire week. Yet it kept on ticking.

So my reader wanted to know if I minded if they installed a similar thing. I am pretty sure I did not invent or build mine, so knowing how thrifty I am (my kids never use nifty words like that, which means it came to me free), then what else could I say but offer a benison.

Go, and count no more. Let the cute wahine do it for you.

I am mildly insane (my kids never use weak words such as mild, either), but I can truly appreciate the effort it must take for anyone to bother linking to my blog. I would apologize for not returning the favor, but those who know the unplumbed depths of my techno-ineptness will understand why I do not.