Me and my blog

I am happy writing here.

We might not know this because I like to complain on at least a weekly basis about all the people not reading my blog. I am consistently unsure of just how famous I'd like this religious tome I'm writing to be, but I never fail to be terribly irritated at what the Internet likes, and that bitter irritation is best expressed in the Internet's dark, unholy disdain for what I am doing here. 

So it might be hard for us to see all my delight in writing clerkmanifesto.

There is some part of me feels like it would not make for a satisfying blog post if I just talked about what a pleasure writing said blog post is. But a person has to let the cat out of the bag sometime, even if the cat curiously seems to like it in that bag, and one can hear it purring, a purring bag.

Don't worry cat, I will leave the bag right here and you can get back into it anytime you like. Have some cream.

The first thing is that I am drawn to the Internet. I like to roam it. But it is radioactive, and I find that the longer I roam it the sicker it makes me. I can leave and gradually recover, but only writing here cures me. A blog post is a beautiful antidote. It makes me feel pure. It burns the Internet toxins out of me. It gives purpose, shape, wholesomeness, and vision to the very act of being on the Internet. The Internet is Smaug the Great, unassailable, and I probe endlessly for a chink in its armor. Or perhaps the Internet is just a windmill, but it is an evil windmill, and my opposition gives me industry, focus, and meaning.

What about you? Out there in that irresistible wasteland. Pull out your Geiger counter. Yes you are being poisoned. But we are strong. The cancer will take decades to get a hold. And now it is weak and young. And I have made this for us, a magic potion of hate and vision and introspection and nonsense. It is my hope if we take it once a day we will, each day, live forever.