Master Of Delusion
Updating quickly last night's post in re my technology-related difficulties, I'd just like to add as a corollary point: fuck shit damn. From here on out, let the record thus reflect said sentiments.

Should tell you all you need to know about the state of things at present.

And now, New Business.

...

Every time I try to think of something that will cement my place in the public consciousness forever, that bastard fucking David Blaine comes along and steals my idea before I can get it off the ground. When I buried myself alive in a Plexiglass coffin in my backyard that one time, nobody--nobody--gave a damn because it had "already been done". Not one TV camera, not one print reporter, not one evening alone with Fiona Apple, nothing. Just a few withered internal organs from lack of food, a little bit of hypoxia-related brain-damage and freakishly enlarged eyes from the prolonged lack of sunlight. In retrospect I guess it would made more of a public impact had I told somebody about it before hand with, like, a flyer or some posterboards around the neighborhood, something. I'll tell you what, though, next time I'm at least going to tell my wife first. I can't prove it yet, but I still get the lingering suspicion that in the week I was "missing" she had at least one date.

I'm excited today though because I think I might have finally hit on the one idea that will ensure my pop-culture immortality.

I'm talking about memes.

That's right, memes. Those little thingies that get passed around from blog to blog, sometimes as little graphical tags that tell you the results of the quiz you took to answer the age-old question What Wonder Years Character Are You? (I always get Chuck, by the way).

If any of you read yesterday's post you know anything involving graphical anything is far and away beyond my meager powers. Some memes, as they are called, come in the form of these excruciating little questionnaires meant to extract something meaningful from the answering participant for the edification of their audience.

Those things fly all over the blogosphere and the internets in general, so I figure the guys who write those things must be, like, super super famous authors now. Plus as often as they get used, even if the writer only gets a penny per use, those guys must be rolling in cashola. I figure I better get in on this fancy New Media loophole gravy-train before some big-time corporation figures it out and ruins it with advertising.

Plus I figure I'm in the clear from the competition. I don't think David Blaine even has a blog.

The little bit I know about basic marketing techniques (a lifelong, intense study of the form achieved by watching commercials) and the general disposition of those who have and maintain weblogs, especially the special subset that are most prone to these type of viral questionnaires, I think I have just the right formulation to ensure maximum exposure and participation.

I'm very proud of it. Are you ready?

The Low Self-Esteem Meme

The Low Self-Estmeme

(OK, I'm still working on the title.)

Instead of "check this box" or "multiple choice" type answers, the questions are all essay-style. Take your time. Be thorough. Remember: this is all about you, even though deep down you know you don't deserve it. Wallow, saddos. Wallow.

1) Why do you have a blog when nobody gives a shit about anything you say?

2) Why doesn't anybody love you even though you're more than willing to put out on the first date?

3) Why are you so fat and stupid?

4) Why do you insist on ruining other people's blogs with your lame, useless comments?

5) Why don't you just eat the whole cheesecake? You're just going to purge it anyway.

6) Why not suicide? Seriously, what's stopping you?

7) Why can't you do anything right?

8) Why are you filling this thing out instead of interacting with actual people?

9) Congratulations, you've finished! Now you can post the results on your blog and sweat it out as you wait for people to comment. Since we're here and we're all being honest, though, come on... between us... the only reason you filled this out at all is so you could fish for "No no, I think you're great! We love you! <3" type comments, isn't it? Isn't it?

10) Why is it so easy to see right through you? And what are you doing even answering this question? I told you on #9 that we were finished. Why are you such a follower? Jesus.

11) Name three people you would like to pass this on to. It is understood that you have no actual friends, but maybe try some people who would do something for you because they feel sorry for you.

The End

Yes! Woo! Even though this is still technically in beta, I think I've struck gold with this idea, I can feel it. My primary demographic is the hormonally-imbalanced 14-year-old market, the same as Linkin Park and Red Bull. If I can keep the death-rate down, I think I might be on to something here.

Feedback and suggestions are welcome. But don't count on a cut of the proceeds, you vultures. This is my magic lamp. Go rub your own.

Don't worry, I'll post about it when my first big fat meme check rolls in.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 4.6


Pops
- posted by Pops @ 10:17 AM