Yeah, he needs the publicity

Every once in a while I'll check out Blogger's "Blogs of Note". I don't know why I do it; Waiter Rant is the only one I've actually liked. The other day, though, I came across one entitled Boy Who Heard Music. The title intriqued me, so I went to the site.

The author of said blog is a guy named Pete Townshend, who happens to be lead guitarist and primary songwriter for an up-and-coming band called The Who. Yes, rock legend Pete Townshend has his own blog. He's my second favorite member of The Who, behind John Entwhisle, who died at the Hard Rock Hotel here in Vegas while snorting coke off a prostitute' s tits. I want to go that way, only replace "snorting coke" with "eating pizza" and "prostitute" with "two prostitutes".

My belabored point being, why does Blogger feel inclined to give Pete Townshend's blog free publicity? He should take out a full page ad in Billboard magazine if he wants people to read his vanity project. In the meantime, MY vanity project languishes in relative obscurity. I want to be a blog of note, damn it. I want legions of lemmings to flock to my musings, not because they think it's funny and understand my sense of humor, but because they were told it's the cool thing to do. That's when you know you've made it in Blogville, USA; when people come to your work thinking if they don't love it there must be something wrong with them. Personally, I think those who don't like my blog are a bunch of humorless Corkys, but that's a subjective opinion.

Someone asked me: "Todd, would fame and wealth change you?" Well, yes and no. Fame wouldn't change me at all. If a million people praise me and one criticizes me, I'll believe the lone critic; that's just the way I am. Money, on the other hand, would turn me into a Trump-like scrote. Hell, back in college I'd act like a prick when my student loan check cleared. I'd refer to myself in the third person: "Todd will supersize that Big Mac combo meal. Extra fries for Todd, knave. Apple pies for everyone, courtesy of Todd." I'd go through that money so fast I'd be selling my plasma by the time mid-terms came around.

I gave up on fame and fortune a hell of a long time ago; I don't even think happiness is obtainable at this point. All I ask for is a "Blog of Note" shout out, and they give it to a multi-millionaire rock god who sees more pussy than a vet with a "No Dog's Allowed" policy.

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NOTE: My friend Amie has written a story in which I'm portrayed as a drunken ass. It's probably true, I don't remember most of the night. Anyway, I heartily endorse this true story that casts me in a bad light. I tried to link to the story like a real blogger would, but it failed miserably. Go to screamingargonauts.blogspot.com.