So there you are, pouring over a clerkmanifesto essay for the eleventh time. Oh, maybe not this sort of essay here, what with all the silliness, but one of the really good ones. And you are sucking out the marrow from the bones of it. Your attention pinpoints, then wanders, dazzled. You wonder "Why isn't clerkmanifesto world famous?"
Er, your version of this scenario might play out with slight differences from mine, but this, roughly, is what happens to me on a weekly basis.
"Why isn't clerkmanifesto world famous?"
When I have a pressing question that needs answering like this I like to ask myself.
This fact alone may actually answer my question, but we'll pretend it doesn't.
Instead we will make a list. Perhaps by listing all the possible answers we will come to some illumination. This is why, from the start, we will omit possible answers that are so statistically outlandish as to be unfeasible, like "Alien intervention", or "It's not that good."
1.The font. I use trebuchet. For a flashing moment I thought "This one is negotiable." And then I thought "What did trebuchet ever do to me?"
2. I am ahead of my time, and/or my timing is bad. Early studies have indicated that my time is just a few weeks after the Universe is a smoking ruin.
3. I am being mysteriously rewarded. Man oh man I am curious how this one works. I bet it's something really good!
4. I am very famous. I am just confused as to what that's supposed to look like.
5. I am missing the point. It is not fame that matters, it's money.
6. God, who can't generally be bothered with injustice, cruelty, tragedy, and the like, managed to open up some time in God's busy schedule of secret planning in order to thwart my designs. You, out there on the Internet, not commenting here, not sharing my posts, not offering book contracts or telling all your friends, not thumbs upping or following or reposting or tweeting, reading one post or twenty and never, ever returning, yes, you. You are doing God's work. Bless you.