The Dictionary of Sarcasm defines a writer as: "A person who is certain they are capable of producing War and Peace and cannot understand why they are getting paid ten bucks a pop to crank out articles on decoupage for some advertiser-supported arts and crafts blog."
All I want to know is: how do you get paid for blogging?
Spending countless hours crafting an entry, or in my case, cranking out a diary like diatribe early in the morning with my Cafe au Lait would put me in the poor house if this were my primary occupation. I wonder if I secretly hope that someone, someday, perhaps a historian in the far future, will be going through historical Internet logs and come across my pittance, which he or she instantly recognizes was the work of a great mind contemplating the meaning of life. Their discovery is published, and my lost, unnoticed brilliance instantly blazes through the literary world, branding me a permanent page on Wikipedia, who's length falls somewhere between the subject of war and the episode listing of The Simpsons.
Maybe writers are more than a bit dreamy, in my case, delirious may be a more accurate description. In the essence of laughter, only a two word joke applies here: Pretentious? Moi?
It's pretty sad when you post an entire blog dedicated to jokes without even the slightest of commentary in the hopes that someone might stumble upon your blog and read the rest of what you sincerely wrote, an exploration and subsequent promise to yourself that led you to the realization that you were sincerely interested in exploring the philosophy of laughter.
Given how dry my humor (and writing) is, Is it any wonder why I'm intellectualizing humor?
Perhaps my next entry should explore Pascal, Kant, and Schopenhauer's "incongruity theory".