When someone says “writer’s platform,” I cannot help but grind my molars together until I hear the crinkly, crunchy snap as my enamel cracks like punched glass. Still. As a buzzword, it’s got legs.
And in the bullshit of the buzzword, truth lingers. Let us tease it out with a tickle.
There it is. The book. A brick. A big block of words and dead trees, or a garish white screen of 1s and 0s comprising your asstastic prose. Your gut sinks. Palms sweat. This thing? It might as well be a football helmet filled with diarrhea. It’s got nothing of value to offer to the world. It’s a tangled briar of gibberish.
You know what time it is. It’s time to dip my ladle into the river of depravity, a river that draws miscreants and deviants to the shores of terribleminds, as ineluctable as the tides, as certain as my utter pantslessness. It’s for time for — *crash of thunder* *keening violin* *braying donkey* SEARCH TERM BINGO.
But one drinky-drink I’m not well-versed in is bourbon. Few times I’ve had it in the past I found it to be a lot harsher than Scotch — instead of smooth and warm we’re talking razors boiled in distilled water — but that tells me I’m just not drinking the right stuff.
Purely out of sheer amusement, I decided to compile the Top 20 posts of the year here at jolly ol’ terribleminds. Now, to be clear, between my three sources of reporting (WP_Stats, Google Analytics, CyStats), I get pretty wildly different numbers as to hits and views and what-not, but overall they seem to agree that these are the most viewed over the course of the last 365 days.
On New Year’s Eve, our way into the new year was with a whole lot of clamor and clatter. My Dad would, as was his way, fire off weapons. A shotgun in specific. As many pulls of the trigger as the coming year demanded, I suppose. CHOOM CHOOM CHOOM.