Inactive blog land. It’s a bleak and desolate place. It’s mostly populated by teenagers who’ve veered away from telling the world their innermost thoughts and are concentrating on porn again. There’s also a smattering of bored housewives in Tuscon, Arizona who thought a blog about their lemon meringue recipes would make the world a better place, but quickly realized that their readership consisted mainly of their e-tarded aunts who needed the blog printed out for them since they couldn’t find the on switch on their kids laptops. According to report in the New York Times about a year ago, which I can’t be bothered to dig out and link to, 95% of all blogs lay abandoned. That’s a substantial chunk. But it’s not as tragic as you may suppose. Most blogs are devoted to the daily activities of Mitsy the housecat in a Newcastle council house. Of the blogs that do survive, and make tons of cash, most are devoted to the exposed nether regions of celebrities stumbling out of their Swarovski-encrusted sports cars and into bimbo-ridden LA nightspots.
So, I’ve been in inactive blog land for the past month or so. I’ve felt bad about it, but only briefly. I’d rather write nothing than slobber onto my keyboard and hope that something semi-entertaining emerges onto the screen. There are a couple of reasons for this inactivity. First of all, I’m pretty busy at the moment, but that’s a crappy excuse because if CEOs can blog, so can I. Secondly, I’ve come to be quite happy in Beirut, and the ire that fuelled my initial posts has subsided. I obviously still have infuriating encounters with the odd overzealous valet trying to monopolize 7 spots of prime parking.
So yeah. There you have it. That’s why I’ve been away. But now something has compelled me to post. Anyone care to guess what that might be? Anger at insane World Cup fans popping up with previously unknown flags at the end of every football match? No, but close. It’s Paul the Octopus. Paul’s accurate predictions of world cup matches have me convinced of an impending octopode take-over of our planet. Bow down to the octopi.