William K. Wolfrum's picture

    Just suck it up and read my blog, letharg

    Lately, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend here at the Web site – fewer and fewer people are coming by. And this trend must come to an end.

    Now mind you, this site gets hundreds of thousands of readers per week* but I will accept nothing but blind allegiance and losing any readers wounds me. So let me just release this statement:

    There may be complaints about my blog not having gotten certain things done, not fast enough, making certain posting compromises. But right now, we’ve got a choice between a Right-Wing blogs that have moved to the right of George Bush and are looking to lock in the same blog posts that made you hate blogs in the first place, versus a blog that, with some admitted warts, has been the most successful blog in a generation in moving its agenda forward.

    You people need to shake off this lethargy, people need to buck up. Reading my blog is hard — that’s what I said all along. It has been hard, and we’ve got some headaches to show for it. But if people now want to take their ball and go home, that tells me folks weren’t serious in the first place. If you’re serious, now’s exactly the time that people have to step up and read my blog.

    Now, some may question whether lambasting my own readership is a wise decision. But they are retarded. It is my job – nay, my responsibility - to hold your feet to the fire and so, my shiftless friends, it is time for you to be motivated behind myself and this blog, regardless of your complaints**.

    Remember, if this blog fails, it’s your fault. Because I’m doing the best I can, and I’m awesome*.

    So read my blog. Get your friends and family to read my blog. Discuss my blog with friends, or even strangers. Create ads for my blogs. Show some enthusiasm, for Gods' sake. Only you can make William K. Wolfrum Chronicles the blog it was meant to be. And I will accept nothing less.***

    * Attempt to verify this, I shoot an Angel. Your move.

    ** Complaints about things like how I so causally tossed in the word “retarded.” WTF was up with that?

    *** At least for, say, six more years. After that I could give a crap.

    –WKW

    Cross posted at ... oh, nevermind.

    Comments

    Is that a real site?

    I mean I see no ads for Miracle Whip or Viagra?

    What gives?


    If I may offer some advice, Mr. Wolfrum, the problem is that you haven't been communicating with your readers. When you first launched, we were inspired by your eloquent posts about an open, community-driven blog that would be different from the blogs that we'd read in the past. But after we made you a leader of the free blogosphere by letting you crosspost at dagblog, you disappeared into your hole in Brazil and now only issue occasional pronouncements about how great your blogging is. I suspect you don't even like us and think that we're a bunch of insufferable whiners.

    Meanwhile, in the right-wing blogs, they've been chatting up a storm with their readers and getting them mad as hell and making them feel important and listened to. So Mr. Wolfrum, with all do respect, it's time for you to wake up and smell the Republicans. If you want to keep your blog, you need to come down off your holy pedestal and start fighting like hell for it.



    Just to let you know, fearless leader:

    We here at Dagblog are resolved to hunt you down in your jungle lair.

    Only a matter of time. Start puting the laser harnesses on your sharks.


    Mr. Wolfrum, you are what Ohio children used to call ‘a pissypants’.  You leave out the parts where we emptied our pockets-es to fund your blog, as did American Corporations in huge numbers of dollars.  We allowed you to pretend it was we little people who funded your sorta-funny drivel because you assured us you would perform better in the future.  Well, sir: that future has now arrived, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.  We are starving for satire, our funny-bones are being foreclosed upon; and you offer no jokes to our brown, black, and gay brothers and sisters.

     We, your lethargic readers, have told you what we want you to write about; but no; you keep making compromises with Red State, you old whore.  You buy into those reader numbers; please consult google analytics for the true read.  Why spare some Crap Angels’ lives over the true count?

     You’ve received boatloads of messages from your readers, begging you to write more Funny into your posts; but no; instead of heeding our cries, you snipe at us.  You were overheard at some grotesque coke-and-caviar party snipping, “Yeah; where those asswipes gonna go; to Dennis Miller’s fucking blog?” said with a curled-lip sneer.  It was reported that you then tugged and twisted one side of your moustache, wheeled around, and headed for the bar. 

     You could get rid of several of those others on the Masthead with you; get a Ouija Board to help you: they’re essentially all the same, except for the one with larger breasts.  Keep that one, come to think of it.  Keep her; she’s usually off cutting brush in Crawford or something anyway…

     See that?  They’re out to get you!  You’ve been listening to the wrong dudes all along; we tried to tell you.  Tried to get you to talk to Your Funnier Angels, not those crap ones you want to shoot.  We even provided blog titles and themes, like comparing journalists to sex toys, and policy wonks to aliens; things like that.  But you keep comparing your readers to brain-eating, whiney Zombies instead.  You think we can’t quit you???

     Oh.  Well.  You may be right.  I just went and looked at Miller’s site….

     

     

     

     


    This comment is so much better than the post that it both thrills and saddens me. I'm Thaddened. You have thaddened me.


    Oh, hell, Wolfie; you did the whole set-up for me.  Don't be thad, brother: Life ith a Frickin' Cabaret, Old Chum!  And in the end, I'll hafta get my friends and pets to read your blog...

     


    As an atheist, I don't believe in angels.  So, your move!


    You misspelled casually, pretard.

    P.S. More sex, please.

     


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