Last night I was visited by three ghosts, who frighteningly enlightened me about the evils of wanton sarcasm and ill-placed condemnation of the Xmas card industry and its staunch adherents. I also got an unpleasant visit from a team of brutish Hallmark lawyers with crude weapons and a hankering for grinch-pounding.
Accordingly, I am embracing hypocrisy per The Smatter’s mandate and issuing the following end-of-year holiday update, dutifully inserted into a virtual picture card of myself.
What a year!
As The Smatter nears its one-year anniversary, I find myself challenged to sum it all up.
Our first post and The Smatterfesto went live in February this year. Since then, we’ve been amusing and enlightening an enormous audience of several dozen friends and family at least a couple of times a month, depending on how busy, lazy, or depressed I am. With Mary’s Freshly Pressed Barbie masterpiece, we’ve expanded our audience enough to get me thinking about a new look and more content in 2011. Deck the halls!
On a personal note (oh shit, here we go…), it’s been a year of ups and downs for your humble editor-in-chief. While unleashing The Smatter upon the unsuspecting world was undoubtedly my crowning achievement, I also lost my long-time girlfriend. I mean, she didn’t die, we just broke up. I thought it was important that I drag you down with me during a time of impenetrable darkness that’s amplified by the unavoidable good cheer of the holidays; thanks for being a good sport! Professionally I’m doing well, I lost 60 pounds, whatever.
WikiLeaks may get more ink, and its founder undoubtedly sports better hair than I, but I personally think The Smatter kicks its ass as a pseudo-journalistic website on the lunatic fringe. I hereby challenge Sir Julian Assange to a no-holds-barred cage match, televised live on Fox News on February 14, complete with young Swedish cheerleaders. To date, I’ve shied away from personal publicity, but today I expose my dashing bravado and bunny ears with reckless abandon:
Suck on that, Dr. Assange! Am I still writing the holiday letter? This is virgin eggnog, right?
Let me abruptly end this experiment in self-referential self-referencing. I owe nothing to Charlie Kaufman!
And happy holidays, dear and valued readers. Seriously. The Smatter loves you madly.
Tell all your friends that their home for intelligent but somewhat juvenile discourse in 2011 is The Smatter!