Friday, July 30, 2004

The Caught In The Closet Contest

Hateful Gutter Mouth

I sometimes hear bloggers worrying about or at least discussing the possibility of being Discovered on their blog. They don’t mean discovered by fame, like some hunk of a Hollywood hopeful being discovered by a famous director at a gay beach or like a curvaceous blonde in a bikini on a new TV show trying to stick her tongue down an Amish boy‘s throat while she gropes for his wool-clad woodie. No, bloggers are worried (or ought to be) about being discovered by the people that they talk about—people from work, the neighbors, their relatives, etc. All those people who Never suspected you were THIS hateful or that you had SUCH a gutter mouth!

Colonel Alzheimer

I wonder how many people are discovered at all by anyone of any sort. Now I have a few readers, I know that. But, to the best of my knowledge, I have not yet accidentally been stumbled across by any former girlfriend, long-lost relative, previous neighbor, or friend from the distant past who owes me money or to whom I owe money. It may be that I don’t talk about enough people, or make fun of them enough when I do—I’m not sure. But at any rate, I have not yet raised the dead or offended any of the fuckheads that I’ve worked with. Oops. Well, at least I didn’t name anybody. I could have mentioned The Colonel, you know. Oops. You probably think that’s a fake name, but he’ll know who he is. If he doesn’t yet have Alzheimer’s disease, I mean.

I’ll Bust Your Windshield

If you have any such story and are not greedily saving it for your own blog, write to me about it. If someone showed up out of the blue and got in contact with you due to your blog, I want to hear about it. I’m interested, whether it was “Hiya, buddy, how are you?” or “You shithead, I’ll find you and bust your windshield with your head!”

I don’t know if there are many such stories, but if there are, I’ll print them. If there’s only one, I’ll print the whole slobbering thing. If there are none, I may consider fabricating one. But I’m very curious about the real ones.

In Flagrante Delicto

I once knew a fellow who told me a story about a mutual friend of ours named Murphy who was found to be “missing” at their place of work one day. For some reason they needed to find him right away and after a search that must’ve gotten very detailed, Murphy was discovered masturbating like a feral monkey in one of the office supply closets. That’s called “in flagrante delicto” [Medieval Latin, "while the crime is blazing".] These days, it means being caught red-handed—in my context, of course, red-faced, too.

If being “discovered” on your blog by people you’ve talked badly about would embarrass you that much, then for the love of Christ don’t write those things! But you can send such stories to me and I’ll print them without attribution. I have no shame, especially not about the things that you and your friends have done!

You Screwed What?!

Even if you don’t have a blog, send me your embarrassing Story Of Discovery and I’ll print it. What the hell do I care? Of course, I won’t name names. If it happened to you, don’t say so—claim that it happened to your brother Claudius or your sister Parvenu. That’ll work. Unless your siblings read MY blog, in which case you’ve screwed the pooch.

Nobody Loves Me, But I’ll Pretend You Do

This probably won’t get many responses, though. I never get much response when I ask readers to give me feedback or take any actions. All but a handful of my readers seem to be dull as dishwater. Well, at any rate, I strive to inspire, amuse, or provoke, mostly to no avail, and that’s all I can do.

Stories of Discovery

What’ll we call this thing? How about The Caught In The Closet Contest? Now, remember, though, I’m soliciting stories about being Discovered in the broad sense, not particularly stories about masturbation. I just like to write “masturbation” repeatedly in public, that’s all. I should have been a grafitti writer in some great American metropolitan city, I guess, though I think they use some other less polite words for that Private Act. I don’t require that you do or don’t use euphemisms. Be sure to change the real names or else warn me not to use real names, if I know you. Trust me, said the spider to the fly…

See "Baby Tiger Ignoring Water", another SURPRISE NATURE PHOTO

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