It's a time a reflection, now that my dalliance with internet fame has come and gone. The affair was brief and unfulfilling, as affairs tends to be with me, and what should have been the best parts were spent wracked with guilt, also standard of my amorous play. All in all, it was remotely pleasurable yet wholly unsatisfying.

South of the border, they call me El Machino del Sexo.

From the moment I read about the Cowgirl's experiment in altruism, I had little doubt I'd send her something. I discussed the motivation below -- traffic and traffic alone. The real question was what to send. As I am both lazy and very self-satisfied, my first idea was simply to paste an old post from my other blog into an email and send it. "She'll love it," I thought self-satisfiedly, "and no one will be the wiser, 'cause no one reads any of this anyway." There was no second idea because, I'll reiterate, I'm self-satisfied and lazy. I also never sent the email. I say again, I am lazy.

Instead of actually sending the email, I spilled out my resentment of her readership here. Obviously I was shocked when she contacted me, but more at the how than the why. The why is so obvious, isn't it, World? You republish me because I am brilliant, and no amount of personal attacks could prevent even the least conscienced human from sharing my genius with the masses.

The how, she told me, was through Technorati. I was unaware of this service, and it's amazing to me. If only some engineer could apply this concept to life outside of the internet-hole. Imagine something that told you who was talking about you, when, and what they were saying. I don't think I could ever look away, even if I wound up watching through the words of others my own disappearance from the world of the living. "Whatever happened to him?" "I remember that guy. I don't think anybody's seen him." "I heard he lives in a house with the windows painted black." "That self-satisfied, lazy fucker."

Analogcabin @ 2:34 PM
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