The people love me. LOVE. Some say I'm the most popular blogger ever. Tremendously popular. So popular that I had to hire my own press secretary to deal with the attention. Here's a transcript of his first press conference.
Good morning, everyone. Thanks for coming out to our first official briefing here in the Art Buchwald Room. I was going to start with a recap of The Blogger's inaugural piece of 2017, but I think you all know how to Google “Pulitzer Prize winner.”
Let me begin by saying that The Blogger is closely monitoring attempts at scintillating satire in Eastern Europe. He spoke by phone with the Prime Minister of the Nether Regions yesterday and offered a heartfelt “nice try, now stick your finger back in the dike.” The Blogger is focused on fulfilling his pledge to pursue commentary that puts American snark first.
That being said, I need to discuss your response to The Blogger these past years. Whenever he has made a joke at the expense of Republicans, your default response is always negative and it’s demoralizing. Not to him, obviously, to them.
Still, he wakes up every post-risible writing day, looks at his email and sees your negativity over and over again. He’s not seeing stories about how he made coffee shoot out of your nose or the success that he’s having keeping typos to a minimum. It’s a little disappointing. He wants you to tell him how you died laughing. But since that would mean you are a ghost haunting via the Internet, your silence is also acceptable.
Really, his GOP jocularity is simply praising the conservative’s innate — some say “inane” but not me, others say it — ability to be mocked. So, settle down, snowflake. Revel in your riotous righteousness.
It’s not like he doesn’t rib Democrats. Who do you think first mocked Hillary for her questionable use of a private server in public restaurants? Or Obama’s obsession with backless chaps? I don’t know, but who’s to say he didn’t? And if you do, The Blogger will get all up in your Twitter feed with the CapsLock on because you know what they say about people with big type.
Even if you did have facts to the contrary, they could be alternative facts. Or fake news. Or fake alternative-fact news. That would be the truth. Or would it? What I’m saying is, you could have made it up just like you made that duplicate key to the wardroom icebox to get to the strawberries.
Where were we? Oh, yes ... then there’s the rumor. Some say The Blogger is part of a mass conspiracy. Hordes of elbow-patched commentators cahooting to delegitimize, mock and Macarena. Wrong. Wr-OOOOO-ng. So wrong.
First of all, elbow patches? Is this the Nixon era? If you’re going stereotype, go true old school and imagine them wearing fedoras with press cards in the bands. Anyway, if only you would just go to a bar sometime and watch a table of journalists try to divvy up a check. Then you would realize that collusion is impossible.
Also, resistance is futile and fusilli is pasta. But don’t quote me.
Your hallucinatory partisan differences aside, The Blogger cares about making this section of the InterWebs better for everybody — even that guy over there who is only looking for cat porn video. I think that when you sit there, reading him over your bran and prunes, and you realize your colon will soon be cleansed and the sacrifice The Blogger made, leaving a very, very successful bottle-and-can collecting business for a few hours to scribble this, because he really cares about your funny bone.
So let him be your bi-weekly orthopedist. At least until your health insurance is repealed.
-- A version of this was first ignored by the readers of The Stamford Advocate.