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Ah, these have been heady days.  I have seen my name all over Left Blogistan, linked and cited.  I've even been called "well-known blogger TRex" on a page I can't find a link to now, but I swear, it was there.   My brother advised me that it might be the time to take my occupation and city off of my home page before some paste-eater declares a fatwah on me and "outs" my personal information, so that a thousand braying Special Needs Voters (i.e., Republicans) start calling me with death threats and harrassing me at work.

Cos that's when you know you've arrived, see.  When bad people start to hate you .  It's a compliment.

This morning, I was seeking Spiritual Enlightenment, trying to Get Out of Myself by gazing at my face in the mirror saying my own name over and over like a mantra as per the advice of Grand Enlightened Zen Master Lee Siegel, when a Huge Important Thought hit me.

I have a giant pimple coming in just west and slightly south of my nose.  FUCK!

But after the horror of that moment passed, and later as I was flossing my teeth, I thought, "What are you hoping to accomplish, here, Rex?  Where do you want to take this?  Thousands of people are reading your writing and this time they're actually laughing with you and not at you.  What are you going to do about that?"

And then I realized all in a rush, "I'm going to be a pundit."

Yeah, that's right.  It looks like a pretty cushy gig.  Nice air conditioned studios every Sunday.  Cocktail weenies and open bars.  Luxury hotel rooms and trips to Washington and New York City.  Right on!  Sign me up!

First, of course, I'm going to have to write a book. That shouldn't take long.  I mean, it doesn't have to be a particularly good book, right?  As long as I can get some think-tank to buy thousands of copies, all I really have to do is come up with a snappy-sounding, controversial title and fill the space between the covers with, oh, whatever.  It seems to work for Ann Coulter.  In fact, really, I don't even have to come up with my own material, do I?  I can make like some home-schooled Patrick Henry University grad and just cut and paste.  Look how well that worked for Li'l Benny Domenech!  Except, of course, the getting caught part.  But I'll think about that later.

Research?  Why bother!  Do you think Michelle Malkin risks her manicure turning the knob on a microfilm reader in some dusty, boring old university library?  Don't be stupid.  All you have to do is have opinions, no matter how far-fetched or wildly contradictory they may be.

In fact, you don't have to be an expert on anything at all really.  You just have to have opinions, loudly.

Next I will need a shtick.   A shtick that becomes increasingly hysterical and unhinged as time goes on, and I am forced to top myself again and again to stay in the public eye.  Eventually, I will be pure Talk Show Gold because thousands of people will watch me appear on television just to see if this is The One Where He Completely Freaks the Fuck Out.

And this is the part that breaks my heart to tell you, dear readers.  In order to push my mediocre books and get in good with the Right People, I will have to blithely pretend that I was never a blogger.  Or, well, I never enjoyed it.  I will have to display open contempt for all of you wee cyber folk out there in the dark.  I'll have to pretend to be appalled at your savagery and put "-ofascist" at the end of your name.  Firedoglakofascists.  How do you like that?

I will have to deploy horribly mangled metaphors against you.  I will call you those, uh, "foaming zebras", ah, no.  Uh, "knife-wielding bunnyrabbits", no.  Those..."RAVENING BEAVERS OF THE LEFT!!"

I'm sorry.  Please understand.  I'm only doing it to get attention. 

And more money and power. 

(image of detective lloyd llewellyn via the magic of darkblack)