I am Spam

Not that I'm getting paranoid, but I am convinced that the internet has marked my writing as spam. I mean I can understand if readers might find me annoying, self-absorbed, ill-informed, long-winded, repetitive, uninspired (I've got to stop now as I am pissing myself off). But, really, some people like me, not in the way that Sally Fields thought that people liked her, but a little bit.

So, why am I getting so many notifications from my once and former faithful followers that they are no longer getting notice of my new postings? It can only be the great conspiracy to keep me from my miniscule audience. This was not some random malfunction but a determined act of the giant beast to eradicate my existence (in an "existential" kind of way). I mean there must be almost as many bloggers as there are computers. Could I really be so bad that the god of who is (in a "metaphorical" kind of way)decided that I alone among all the dreck and idiocy was not worthy?

Has it been decided that I am not funny enough? I know that I am not Larry David, or even Larry David's old shoes, but that doesn't mean I can't take a stab at humor, at least once in a while.But, if you have made a fixed determination that my only possible redemption is to quit trying to be clever and cute, well then I will take that as my cue.

Could my political positions be pedantic? I comprehend that there is little but facade in these short but vapid statements in which I criticize and critique. If I have offended a Republican god of internet with my observations, I give my sincerest apologies. If you demand that my ramblings on everything related to a world in which I know nothing but profess to be an expert must disappear, they are gone.

Even I find my attempts at poetry pathetic. And my ridiculous stabs at country music stardom, what is that all about? I mean not only can't I carry a tune, I most assuredly can't write one. What do I know about trucks and bars? If I was intended to write these lyrics I would have been born without a New Jersey accent. I get it, no more corny attempts to be what I am not.

But how about sports? Won't you at least leave me with the one thing that I am truly fit to wax on (and on) about? I mean I am a failed and failing athlete and everyone likes to read about yet another mindless jock contemplating a world he wishes he could inhabit. I still see myself at almost 60 turning a double play for the Yankees. I just have to tell the runner coming into second to be careful because my back is not so good these days. I know I can be more focused and less whiny when I muse about my personal and perpetual shortcomings on my chosen field of play. Yet, if you are telling me that enough is too much, then so be it. Goodbye, true love, I will miss you dearly.

So, what is left for me to compose rhapsodic on? My family, of course and my own personal life skill deficiencies. My mom, and my dad. You can't seriously want to take them away. I mean I just about invented the over-dramatic and I am the quintessential sappy. I write of my folks like a really bad version of Erich Segal's "Love Story". I am the first draft of something that never should have happened, I get it. But can you really be telling me that this is not worthy of at least the light of day? Can my mom and dad not pull at your heartstrings enough to be maintained on your pages? Even them?

And then it all gets down to just me and my poor wife, and children, as it always does. I started out thinking I could do a David Sedaris on myself. I mean I have so many shortcomings that I could overload your system discussing them ad nauseum ( I am aware that the literal translation is "to the point of nausea"). I do understand that there are limits of self-contemplation that can't be crossed and I may well have crossed them. But my tributes to my beleaguered spouse, and my 2 wonderful kids, those also have to stop? I mean you are really cruel, but if I must, well, you are the boss.

The only thing left is to talk about you. The great and wonderful Oz. The master of this universe with the power to give and to take away. You may be almost as critical to this world as Oprah. If I must limit my comments to praise of your all-mighty I will do as commanded. I will do whatever it takes to get my readership back. Please unspam me your holiness. From your humble servant.