This is my fiftieth blog.
That’s right the big Five-Oh.
When I started back in March, it was my goal to reach this number. Of course, I thought I would be picked up by New Yorker Magazine or the talent hunters in the book biz, who I assumed regularly prowled the internet, long before I reached it.
And since I tend to live in my own little world, I thought that blogging, while not a unique thing to do, was at least somewhat unusual. This is not true. There are a lot of bloggers out there. I have recently learned that there are 13 right here in town who are signed up at Blogspot. Califon has a population of 1,300 which means that one per cent is blogging. Sounds like a small number but if one per cent of the American citizenry is blathering away, it means there are 3 million bloggers out there from Blogspot alone.
One more thing about numbers: according to my SiteMeter, about 1,200 people have read these pages since I started. Of course, you have to factor in that SiteMeter counts me every time I go on to see who has been on. Since I do this about 10 times a day, this thins out the crowd of Wry Bother aficionados considerably. In fact, I suspect it produces a popularity rating for my efforts of near Bushian proportions.
I am aware that there are ways to pump up my readership. Writing about things that people are interested in would surely help. Using key words that people might Google is another way of suckering in readers. I noticed that many misguided souls seeking information about Irritable Male Syndrome land here because it is a subject about which I have written. I recently read that “sex”, “money”, and “big tits” are three of the most frequently Googled words. There, I’ve just increased my readership.
Had you read this, you might well have asked: “Jerry, which of your 50 (congratulations, by the way) essays is your favorite?” That would have been a very good question. I would have responded by saying that I like them all, but have a special fondness for “The Unemployment Office” (July 12) because that actual event was so surreal that the piece wrote itself. Weigh in with your choice and I may actually re-run it, thus sparing myself several hours of needless effort.
I will end with a poem (maybe someone Googling “doggerel” will land here) to mark this special occasion.
Happy 50th, Wry Bother, my favorite spot,
Full of wit, humor, and Tommy-rot.
There is no quit in this old dog
As my laptop I happily flog
Grinding out wit and drivel in equal measure
Because in so doing I take great pleasure.
It’s fine to be stroked by an adoring nation,
But there’s much to be said for self-gratification.