Vonderjah! Or: How Sitemeter Became An Enabler Of My Already-Burgeoning Compulsive-Disorder
1. A lamentation with a twist of sunshine
2. An utterance both decrying and praising; an exaltation of short-lived disappointment.
3. A completely made-up word to un-ambivalently express my prowling frustration and limitless optimism: The tricycle I wanted with the big red banana-seat has been rented to someone else, but there’s a roller-coaster nearby? Vonderjah! I need an interweb-ticker telling me how many visits I’ve had in the same way I need a boot stuffed in my ass: not a lot, but better that than a harpoon. In obsessively checking my dwindling visits, I quickly become a slave to the myriad ways in which I could increase my traffic, a sucker for blog-directories that bring in as many new readers as I would myself by yelling off my balcony, a chump reciprocating links for no other reason than to display some half-assed cyber-community’s piss-poor logo...
Vonderjah; the time is right, after 4367 visits, to forego the tracking, to let the comments do the talking, to allow myself to mistakenly believe that millions upon millions of people are reading my shit, hour after hour, cutting and pasting the funniest bits to send to their friends/acquaintances/enemies like those morons who send chain-emails about how God makes one’s life complete, or picture-heavy displays of Bad Women Drivers/Redneck Ingenuity/Church Signs/My Cat Unraveling A Ball Of Yarn, or "send this to seven friends before you get hit by a bus and shit upon by Jesus"...
I’m going to write anyway - what difference does it make if anyone is reading?