The first rule of blogging is to not call it blogging.
The second rule of blogging is to not talk about your blogging habits.
The third rule of anything is that you are supposed to repeat the first rule and make it the second rule.
I wrote something like that a few years ago. A smartassed tutorial about writing on a website. I have never been good about listening to my own advice.
This is a story about how Fake Dispatch is killing HolyJuan.
About 18 months ago, I began a character on Twitter called Fake Dispatch. I leveraged the 500 or so followers from my HolyJuan Twitter account to get Fake Dispatch up and running. Pretty soon, Fake Dispatch also had 500 followers. And then 1000. Then 2000. I started off making up fake headlines about Columbus. My audience grew outside of 270, so then I started in with material more suited to the whole of Ohio. Soon after that, I realized I had a nationwide audience. Over 10,000 people following me. To someone like me whose ego runneth over, this is strangely addicting.
The problem with Fake Dispatch is that he siphons many of the ideas that would have gone into a HolyJuan article and squishes down into a 140 character post. Back in the old days, I would have a crazy idea about something and figure out a way to turn that into a 300 word post. A simple idea like, “Band Names from Willie Wonka All Used Up” would be thought through, run through the computer, edited and posted. Now if I have that idea, I figure out a way to squeeze that down into 140 characters. It’s much quicker. It’s much easier. It’s pathetic. Most of the best HolyJuan posts were individual ideas that were built up. Many of the ideas I started out with would evolve into something else. Something else better. Now that does not happen as much. At all.
Now Fake Dispatch will link to old HolyJuan posts as they become relevant. People think they are hilarious. Each link to a HolyJuan article contains the date it was originally posted. Dates of 2010, 2007 and back to 2006 are a testament that I've been HolyJuan a lot longer than I have been many other things.
But will Fake Dispatch kill HolyJuan?
I don’t think so. Fake Dispatch is faceless and soulless. HolyJuan is my voice and has a heart, even though I can come across heartless. I think the two can live together. I'm not promising anything, but I'm hoping that I can guilt myself into being more than just Fake Dispatch.
Follow Fake Dispatch on Twitter at this link: https://twitter.com/#!/Fake_Dispatch You know where to find HolyJuan. Hopefully you will continue to find me here.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: During the writing of this article, I wandered away and posted these two Fake Dispatch posts. I lack focus.
BREAKING: Local man does not own Skyrim, so he's doing and then quitting heroin so that he knows what it's like.
BREAKING: By 2005, Al Queda knew they couldn't hurt the US by force, so they went to marketing school and now they torture us with TV ads.
Hairs Did
Here's @Freckledjenn and I getting our hairs did at the Cbusr/614 Magazine meet up at Local Bar.
Boots
I recently found it necessary to purchase a pair of
boots. Construction site rules. So I bought a pair of boots. When I got on site, the boots were new enough
that they captured the attention of one of our vendors who happens to be a good
friend. He said that I should scuff the
boots up so that they didn’t look so new.
I said, that reminds me of a story…
And here they are in 2006 when I finally retired them.
Here’s to my new boots. They’ve gone though a lot in their first month. Everything except grass stains.
When I was 19, I went from working at Baskin Robbins to
Hanning’s, a roofing company in Lancaster , OH
I showed up for work in my old jeans and seasoned boots. The
foreman took one look at my boots and said, “Did you rub grass on your
boots?” I said, “No.” He said, “It looks like you took a pair of
new boots and rubbed grass on them.” I
said no again, but I might as well have told him yes.
22 years later I finish telling our vendor that a pair of
boots is more about what is on the inside of them and a lot less about what is
on the outside of them.
He didn’t believe it for a second.
Not that it means anything, here are those boot at the end
of my first summer as a roofer.
Here’s to my new boots. They’ve gone though a lot in their first month. Everything except grass stains.
Hotel Electricity
I don't know much about electricity, but this is what I found when I went to plug in my phone charger at the hotel. If you don't see it at first, look at the black plug.
If you want to know the truth, this was the alarm clock and I didn't want to try and figure out how to set the clock, so I left it plugged in like this.
No carry on
For the first time ever, I am at the airport, awaiting to take off, and I do not have a carry-on bag. My mind still thinks I do because I keep looking for it every five minutes. All I've got is my wallet, my Droid and a 2000 mile long extension cord. This Droid 3 is very nice, but it chews right through the battery. I've got it plugged in now, but I can see the airport lights dim everytime I hit a key.
I'm assuming that when I do not have a signal or when my battery dies I will be sad, but until then, I will continue to keep looking for the bag that is sitting at home all alone.
Two-sack is going to be pissed because I also left the most recent Donaldson book at home. I was supposed to have read that six months ago, but have not made the time. I'm sure he won't mind, seeing as the book is big enough to be a carry-on on its own.
Bathroom Sign
We recently moved into new offices. There was a sign already in the bathroom when we got there saying that the door should be locked. I thought it needed a friend.
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