Jeff will be returning to his rightful place tomorrow after this unfortunate hiatus. I wish to thank regular readers of this blog for the thoughtful death threats I have received, and I want to give the explanation for the events of the past two weeks on Syntax of Things.
About a month ago, I began being irritated that Jeff did not seem to be appreciated enough by those of you who read his blog. I thought you were taking him for granted, frankly. I didn't want to go in the comments section and say what ungrateful people you all are, so I devised a scheme that would make you appreciate Jeff's talents and his blog posts.
It took a while for me to persuade Jeff to agree to my plan, but eventually I was persistent enough that I succeeded.
What I'd decided is that I would write a series of interminably long blog posts, filled with pretentious comments, annoying digressions, obnoxious self-promotion, and details so boring and poorly written that it would drive the readers of Syntax of Things bonkers. Each post would be -- unbelievably -- even worse than the past one. I'd include stupid irrelevant graphics badly situated within the text, endless scrolling, a local focus so sharp that it would alienate anyone who doesn't live on my block, annoying references to obscure or highly personal subjects, links to absurd and irrelevant websites, unconscionably extensive coverage of material that no blog reader could possibly care about, snotty asides, bad puns, faux jollity and sentences so poorly crafted that anyone with a sense of literary style would feel intense nausea upon reading them -- all to make the readers of Syntax of Things issue cries of utter relief when their punishment would come to an end.
(Rick Moody, don't you wish you were twenty years older? You would have been spared much ridicule.)
Ladies and gentlemen, your long blog nightmare is over. I will not post another entry on this blog.
For those of you who wonder how I was able to generate such a large amount of horribly written text: Tonight, before I go to sleep, I am going to write in my diary. I will be finishing my 38th complete year of writing diary entries in these red hardbound books, begun in August of 1969, when I was a mere 18 years old. (Of course I must have mentioned that several times but I pity anyone who tried to read that far into any of my posts.) Many incredible picayune details about my diary appear in the autobiographical essay that Contemporary Authors, due to an unbreakable contract (I'm a lawyer, after all) had to pay me for (a cool thousand, if you can believe it -- but Thomson/Gale needed a tax writeoff that year) and print.
So I will just end my tenure here by thanking Jeff profusely for letting me bore you all for the past fortnight. Hopefully (note incorrect use of this adverb) it will make you all think about Jeff and how much you missed him. Please write to him tomorrow after his return and tell him how much you are glad he is back.
And no one is more glad than I am. After all, I had to read my own writing before I posted it.
Thank you for allowing me to perform this little experiment.
Oh, and if anyone wants to get a PDF or Word document copy of one of my recent books (you can find out what they are on my ineptly designed website), I would be happy to send them to you. Just don't expect me to pay you all that much to take them.
Thanks and goodbye.