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, whose 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 humor, only a two word joke applies here: Pretentious? Moi?
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".