You probably think that when I'm not blogging, I'm writing super-copy for mega-corpoations, sporting fancy sunglasses and an expensive laptop to Starbucks to work with the other trendy involuntarily separated outcasts of the 00s.
What I'm really doing is hanging my DSL wire over the footboard of my bed, hoping it doesn't slip out again since it long ago lost the little prongy-thing that keeps it neatly stuck inside the ethernet port, emailing long-lost bloggers encouraging them to come back.
Take for instance Tom Shugart. An officer and a gentleman who has entered his seventh decade, Tom is one blogger whom this blog mama (you see I helped spawn Tom some years back) is not about to let sit silently.
Tom's a solid old-school blogger.
Tom's not a shock jock. Tom's not a pundit. Tom doesn't chase conferences. Tom doesn't lose sleep wondering whether blogging is journalism or vice versa. Tom's not looking for a book deal (though if you want to give him one, he has a lot to say). He's Tom. And you should keep up with him.
Now that I've twisted his arm, shall we say, to get back to where he once belonged... I confess that Tom only mentions PART of my email to him in his post. I thought you might like to read the whole thing. Feel free to use it as a template to coax your own lost bloggers back online:
HEY BABY--IT'S YOUR BLOG MAMA TALKIN'! DON'T GIMME NO LIP, NOW, JUS GET YOURSELF BACK ONLINE TO THAT BLOG AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ONE LITTLE WORD ABOUT IT.
DON'T TELL MAMA YOU BUSY, DON'T TELL MAMA YOU GOT BETTER THANGS TO DO. LORD KNOWS THAT'S THE TRUTH. WOOHOOO. THAT IS THE EVER LOVIN TRUTH.
THE OTHER TRUTH IS THAT THESE HERE PUNDITS ARE COMIN INTO OUR NEIGHBORHOOD AND CAUSIN ALL KINDS OF TROUBLE. THEY THINK WE'RE THE RIFRAF BECAUSE, WELL, I DON'T KNOW, I GUESS IT'S WHO WE HANG OUT WITH IN THIS BLOGPLACE, OR MAYBE BECAUSE WE DON'T GO TO THEIR CONFERENCES AND AREN'T HIGH-EDUCATED OR WHATEVER, BUT THE PROLEM IS THAT THEY ARE THE REAL RIFRAF AND WHAT THEY'RE TRYING TO DO IS JUST MAKE THIS PLACE THE SAME OLD SAME OLD AS THAT PLACE, AND HELL WHY'D WE COME HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE IF IT WAS GOING TO BE ALL CONCRETE AND BRICKS AND WINDOW OFFICES AND WHO-PUBLISHED-WHAT-WHERE-THIS-WEEK?
SO WHAT I'M SAYING IS IN DOING OUR SMALL PARTS--ALL OF US LIL PIECES--WE CAN KEEP OUR LITTLE DAISIES GROWING ALL OF US, AND YOU WATCH OUT FOR MY DAISIES AND I'LL WATER YOUR DASIES AND WE'LL WATER FRANK'S DASIES, AND ALL OF THOSE BLOG PUNDITS THEY WON'T EVEN NOTICE BECAUSE THEY'LLJUST BLATHER ON AND ON AND ON. WHATEVER. DON'T WORRY BOUT THEM. I GOT VOODOO ON THEIR SORRY ASSES ALREADY.
BUT SEE THERE AREN'T ENOUGH DASIES OUT HERE, SO YOU BETTER COME BACK.
Next, I'm after Michael O'Connor Clarke, about whom I've been thinking--a lot lately. Well, I should say we.
See I got my PEEPS Paynter helping me locate some of our old blogmates.
[[Above: PEEPS Paynter]]
So welcome home, Tom Shugart. And If anyone's seen MOCC, tell him his sister's lookin' for him.
MOCC--If you're out there, email us.