Blogger Awards:

The process in which formerly clever and funny bloggers grovel to the great unwashed masses to vote for them in a popularity contest against the likes of Weird Uncle Charlie and the MySpaceheads in order to win an “award”, to-wit:

The Bloggerbation Award
given to the blogger known for stimulating his/her ego by cranking out some written drivel purely for the relief felt upon posting

The Bloggerrhea Award
awarded for the art of getting rid of a lot of emotional shit by writing about it ad nauseam

The Bloggerlust Award
a special category for bloggers who keep a blog for the purpose of attracting and hopefully hooking-up with another blogger

The Oblogatory Award
this is the award given to somebody you genuinely like but whose writing you secretly believe to be crap

The Imaginary Honourary Blogger Award
the secret award in which one nominates oneself, votes for oneself, and in which one wins absolutely nothing but the gratification of one’s own ego . . . which was why you started blogging in the first place

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The practice of blogging has long-since ceased to fascinate me since everybody and their grandmother’s pet parrot now has a blog in which they whine about their life/family/job/unemployment/sex-life, post photos of their pets, and gratuitously share naked photos of themselves in an attempt to draw traffic. Now, however, there is a whole new-ish demand on 0.0001% of my attention span: blogger awards. I am not quite sure I am grasping the concept here. Do you win money? Or do you just get one of those ugly little graphics that say you won an award from a bunch of strangers whose opinions you cannot live without? I could be wrong, but I do not believe that you receive a guaranteed book deal from a major publishing house. Although, as we real [coughhiccupgiggle] writers know, it is perfectly feasible that any of us can switch from blogging about our pathetic personal lives to crafting a brilliantly clever, twistingly suspenseful, tastefully titillating, perfectly plotted novel. Much like having the ability to wittily entertain friends and strangers alike with well-timed pithy remarks, a stand-up comedian this does not make.

Go ahead, send in your precious manuscript. If you are lucky you will receive something a little warmer than the standard rejection letter . . . possibly a note thanking you for the scrap-paper you sent which, regrettably, they cannot use because somebody has already printed all over it. Believe me, I adore my favourite bloggers. I even read a couple of people who I can just tell I would detest in person. But, frankly, most of them couldn’t write a book with the ghost of Ernest Hemingway dictating over their shoulder.

Don’t get me wrong, I would be flattered to just be nominated, let alone to win an award. Even though I have not been nominated for anything, not even The Really Fucking Stupid Blog Awards^©, I already have my acceptance speech drafted. It starts with the mandatory “Oh My Godde, I wasn’t expecting this at ALL!” [as I whip out the large-print, double-spaced sheet of Thank-You’s that I carry everywhere with me]

As I once wrote about my writing, as much as I enjoy the comments and emails and friends telling me how much they look forward to my stories, I write primarily for me. Besides, having readers is not always a plus; I started keeping a diary at the age of 13 — and stopped on the day that my nosy parents found the diary and expressed a contrasting opinion as to my right to refer to them as “self-serving miscreants” in the privacy of my own diary. I was writing for many years before those whacky engineers invented the World Wide Web so that 45-year-old obese perverts could steal photos of beautiful women and attempt to lure other fake-chicks into having cybersex with them. The reality is that I won’t stop writing even if you all stop reading me . . . which won’t happen as long as I continue to post photos of myRack™. Although 95% of my readers comment me by email, I can tell by my site counter and traffic statistics that I have a considerable number of visitors. Even after I attribute 99% of the traffic to spambots . . . ~sigh~ . . . sometimes, I truly wonder why I even allow comments on this website; I think it is just to give the spammers a place to kick back and take a break before they move onto a more interesting website on which to leave their foul spew.

So, out of sour grapes and desperation time-saving efficiency, I have nominated myself over at Bloggers Choice Awards. Due to sheer modesty, I only nominated myself for Best Humor Blog, Best Photo Blog, and Best Blog Ever Known on the Planet Earth to the Species of Mankind. I would imagine that once the Awards Police check out my website they will simply put an end to voting and declare me Blogger Empress of the Universe . . . even though this is a website, not a blog. Actually, I don’t expect to get a single vote besides my own, but if I am really lucky, maybe, just maybe I will get two or three new readers . . . and 500 new spambots.

VOTE FOR ME!!!

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Posted under: intentionally scathing self-mockery
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This entry was posted on Sunday, April 29th, 2007 at 11:30 am and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.