Time To Move On

I’ve been doing plenty of everything lately and have neglected this favourite form of expression, the no-holds-barred, 2,000 word essay. Prob is, time is money and I have precious little time. Thanks, Ma, for the big brain. Appreciate it. Really.

So, it’s time to monetize this bitch a little better than what’s being doing on Blogger*, hence, I’m planning to move this hole, excuse me, whole thing to a dedicated domain of its own and then, see how it goes. Sure. I have hopes and dream like any red-blooded American boy that yearns for adventure with a wolf or something, but I want to take it slow, okay? I mean, I really like you and, that’s why. Okay?

Therefore, I’ll need a little help. I need a name for the new site so that I can register it then WordPress it up, y’all. I want you. To help me (silly!) choose a new domain name. Now, don’t be annoying and register a name then try to sell it to me because I’m just not a-gonna do that, but DO send me your idea in the comment and if I select yours, you WILL get a $10 gift card to Dunkin Donuts. Hey. you don’t even have to tip the poor immigrants, you cheap person, you.

“But you never publish the comments,” you say. That’s right, because I f*cking hate the spammy crap that comes in with the good stuff, but I read each and every one, so I know who’s been naughty and who’s been very naughty. Heh, heh.

Please. I am begging you. I need your help. I want your help. I desire and require it. Don’t let me down, now. Gotta keep that Web Hand strong, yo.

Write it up.

(*Blogger is a superb vehicle for this kind of thing, but because of technical reasons, an independant domain is preferable, especially if I gonna get paid for noodling away tons of hours writing this highly entertaining sh*t f’y’all. Dig? I love Blogger, fo’ sho’ and why they haven’t ported it to a WordPress-like deployment is beyond me, but I don’t have time to research it. Here’s an idea – you research it, write a witty column about it and I promise I will feature you on the new site. No free coffee card, though. Sorry. What am I? Made of money? Peace out.)