It wouldn’t be quite accurate to say that site traffic has slipped a bit since I’ve switched over to a “bizarre hostile relationship between myself and a fictitious character that looks like my nose” type of content. Saying “my traffic has come crashing to the ground like a fiery meteor” would be a little more reflective of the reality. Of course, I could just lie and say that I don’t care about my site traffic; but how would I explain why I even check my site meter in the first place?

So there you have it. I confess. I care if people read the crap I put up on the internet. Hyperlinks make me happy. They fill the bleak void with what is admittedly a trivial sense of validation. When people put up posts that say “look what that asshole eebmore said” I do a little ass-naked happy dance.

I feel the same way about comments. Well... some comments. Some comments I hate, like “hang in there, kiddo” comments. Luckily, I’m not a girl so I don’t get too many of these. I also hate Socratic debate forum comments, like “insightful points, indeed. But I feel you’ve failed to blah blah blah. Much like such and such pseudo-expert said...” Not that I mind people disagreeing with me, just don’t act like you’re in the shadow of the fucking Acropolis when you do it. I post pictures of my ass here, people... this is not a forum for intellectual debate.

Otherwise, I pretty much love comments. I love it when anonymous commenters call me an asshole. I love it when commenters who I know call me an asshole. I’m an especially big fan when commentators call me an asshole and do it in a witty way. I also really enjoy it when people simply say crap like “good post” or “very funny” and shit like that. I do have an ego and it likes to be stroked.

Of course, the argument could always be made that this isn’t really all that successful a web page and I really don’t have any business quantifying what traffic and comments I do get in the first place. I should be happy that anyone bothers reading this garbage in the first place. This is generally how I feel.

But still, I have to admit that it stings a little bit that Mr. Schnozzle doesn’t seem to be as popular as I had hoped. According to my site meter, not only is Mr. Schnozzle not particularly popular, he seems to be generally disliked.

I think I have to step back and remember that what I enjoy when surfing weblogs is not the same thing as other people. The one thing that I keep reading over and over is that what people enjoy when reading these weblogs is looking into the lives of other people. This is probably where our path’s fork. I’m generally uninterested in the actual details of the lives of the webloggers that I read. I don’t care about their kids, dogs, political opinions, studies, jobs, social lives, musical tastes or whatever. What keeps me coming back to these pages is how entertaining these people can be when describing these things. I guess, to me, the details of the lives are just the colors on a palate* palette. (<--**Mr. Schnozzle editorial comment: “Colors on a palate* palette?” Ugh, what a pretentious ass. Will somebody please shut this guy up?)

Not to say that I’m right and the rest of the world is wrong; quite the contrary. I think society expects me to care about the actual details of the lives of my friends, relatives and girlfriends too... but I generally don’t. I can assure you it’s a real relationship killer when a woman realizes that I haven’t actually paid any attention to the actual details of her stories over, say, a three week period. Or when my cousin, who I grew up knowing, after spending the entire day with her and her husband of many years (both of whom I really like), and after listening to her tell a long story about some guy named Todd, I asked her who Todd was. She just looked at me like I had three heads and replied “Um... MY husband.” So I forgot his name? I still think he’s really great guy and father to however many children they have together, and I still think my cousin is a GREAT storyteller. I’m just bad at paying attention to the actual details.

I guess I’m pointing these things out to explain why, for me, it seems perfectly acceptable to shift from actual happenings in my life to imaginary ones in my content. I can’t imagine why anyone would care about the actual details of my life.

Of course, there is always the chance that Mr. Schnozzle just isn’t particularly amusing or entertaining to anyone other than myself. I asked him what his opinion was on this subject. He just kicked me in the shin and told me to go fuck myself. He can be sooo mean to me sometimes.

*appeasing the spell police