Well, it looks like my post “How to Start Your Own Religion” came in first place in the “Best Post” category at the Blogpower Awards. I'm very pleased to see that reality tv, rap music and crystal meth have not yet completely destroyed everyone's sense of good taste. You people obviously know quality when you see it, and for that I salute you.
You know, when I think about the nightmarish amounts of peyote I had to ingest in order to get the proper “insight” to write that particular piece, this award almost makes it worthwhile. Sure, I still see dragons coming out of the walls occasionally, but I'm starting to get used to it, and I find that they are not nearly as threatening once you break the ice and get to know them. Mostly they just want to talk.
Now then. There are a few people to whom I owe my gratitude, so if you'll all please bear with me, I'd like to mention them now.
First and foremost, I'd like to thank my dear, dear friend and ass-kicking agent Freya, over at Freya Speaks. A more talented and
ruthless selfless agent could not be hoped for. Were it not for her shameless promoting, constant cajoling, bribing of officials (allegedly) and downright nasty threats (no proof whatsoever), this probably never would have happened. Come on up here Freya! Yeah, that's it - no, wait, Freya, don't take your clothes off, I'm in the middle of a speech. No, please, put your shirt back on. Please. Ok. Thank you.
Sorry about that, folks, she gets a little rowdy sometimes. It's probably the champaign.
I'd also like to thank the lovely and talented Steph, who, as many of you know, recently used her well deserved street cred to give a huge boost to my readership. I can't express my appreciation enough, and if I ever do get big and sell out, then I'll have her to thank for it. (By the way, does anyone have any tips on how to sell out? I'm thinking something along the lines of endorsing indie rock bands, maybe. You know, I'd like to keep it “hip” or “fly” for the kids at first, and then slowly work my way up to softdrink commercials or car insurance ads. Well, it's something to think about for later.)
A warm and friendly “Thank You” also goes to Ms Smack, who left the very first comment ever, and was also the first person to send her peeps my way. Her kindness and milfyness do not go unappreciated, and no, we're not related (as far as I know), so there's really nothing creepy about me referring to her as “milfy”. A toast to you, Ms Smack.
And while it may be true that there have recently been certain, um, “tensions” among certain parties, I just want to go on record as saying that The Captain has a special place in his giant, Gandhi-like heart for each of you, and wishes not to see any squabbling upon the deck of his beloved Mystery Ship. In the immortal words of Malcolm X, “Why can't we all just get along?”. Or was that Martin Luther King? Well, it doesn't matter, the point is I'm not running a freakin' zoo here, so let's all play nice-nice, ok? Ok then.
And last, but certainly not least, I'd like to thank all the “Little People” out there. No, I'm not talking about midgets (besides, around here we call them “squidgets”), I'm talking about you, of course - all the nice “little” people who voted for my post. You're all aces in my book. Now give yourselves a big round of applause! Ok, that's enough.
And, finally, I'd like to address an issue that has come up repeatedly ever since the polls closed on Wednesday night. For some bizarre reason – and I really have no idea where this is coming from – but, for some reason, people keep approaching me about a “foot rub”. Many of you seem to be under the false impression that I “owe” you a foot massage. I don't know what this is all about. I don't recall saying anything about rubbing anyone's feet. Furthermore, if anyone can show me any documented proof that I made any such promise during my campaign, then I'd certainly like to see it. Otherwise, I ask that you please discontinue with these ridiculous allegations. Read my lips: NO FOOT RUBS. Obviously the liberal media, with their left-wing foot-rubbing agenda, has once again taken my words completely out of context in a futile attempt to vilify me.
Or maybe it was a typo or something.
Either way, I apologize for any misunderstandings, and if your feet hurt, you might try soaking them in warm water and Epsom salt. Two table spoons per gallon should do the trick.
So, thanks again everyone, and now I must be off. I have an appointment to get a $400 haircut, and my stylist, Raoul, will throw a hissy-fit if I'm late. He may be tempermental, but the man's a genius with a pair of scissors.
Update: I hate this post