Sink To The Bottom With You
Happy Tenth Anniversary of Blogging and Giving Up A Substantial Amount Of His Time When He Could Have Been Doing Something More Productive Like Scrap-Booking Or Maybe Playing Myst to Atrios.
As many long time readers might remember, Atrios (then known as Kurt Foster: Middle School Gym Coach of Mystery) first made his appearance (as did I) on Salon’s Tabletalk where we few, we happy few, we band of pupal stage-b
rothersloggers traded witticisms, bon mots, and all manner of japery and drolleries. From there he made the leap into “blogging” (a term that, to this day, still makes me cringe). Months later he sent me an email telling me that I needed to start a blog also too because “I’m stealing all your best shit” and then held my hand as I crossed the street into a world of Gilliard (“Fuck the fucking Yankees”), Cappozola in a time when we all thought Digby was A Dude.
And he is the reason that I came to be a “blogger” (ick) which produced Jenna & Not Jenna, The Virgin Ben, the 101st Fighting Keyboarders, America’s Worst Mother™, Crazy Jesus Lady, Gun Counter Gomer, “A Somewhat Popular Blogger”, Godlstein, The Alec Rawls Descent-Into-Madness-athon, Five Brothers Blogging, Hugh Hewitt’s nipples, Action Figure Theatre, Princess Jesus Boobies, Basset Blogging, Chunky Reese Witherspoon, Snowbilly Snooki, Mumia Sweatshirts, Jonah Always Leaving (okay, by popular request: Flowers For Goldberg), Erick Erick Erick Ericksonintoinfinity, endless screenings of Michelle Malkin trying to escape Earth’s gravitational shackles, tit-shimmying/ass-gyrating gifs, and Bill Kristol Eating a Big ol’ Bag O’ Salted Dicks.
All of this is the fault of Atrios who graciously launched myself as well as a thousand (give or take) blogs into Skippy’s Blogtopia.
I blame Obama.