69 Blog Posts You Won’t Comment On Or Read

If I told you there is an article that says mothers and grandmothers were/are responsible for making sure the kids eat because the men/hunters are only successful at bagging big game 3.4% of the time you might scratch your head or pump your fist.

I know a few of are nodding your head because you’re convinced that without women we all would starve and or are children would be hurt ‘cuz the menfolk aren’t paying attention.

And I know at least 38 of you want to know who taught these men to hunt and whether they are using AR-15’s with night scopes and the latest sportsmen accoutrements.

So what does this have to do with 69 blog posts you won’t comment on or read?

Not much.


It is not because I can’t connect them together, ‘cuz I could.

Hell I could tell you about the scary lake in Ohio that people fear to buy houses upon ‘cuz it is eerie and tie in a story about Johnny and June promising to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame together…maybe.

And if you are one of those people who spend two hours under a hair dryer on a Sunday night you might even read it twice while trying to decide whether to be annoyed  or pleased.

Anyhoo, let me throw a few more bananas into the crowd and say 14 years of blogging has proven that blogging about blogging always drives more comments and readers.

That other stuff I touched upon, well it is targeted at the non and former bloggers first ‘cuz it is goofy and interesting.

Goofy and interesting are relatively effective at generating interest and retaining interest.

They are variants of outrageous and intriguing which might be headlines like “Things You Shouldn’t Suck On” or questions like ‘what happens when friends of your ex send you FB requests and stalk you online.”

That is the kind of stuff that encourages all kinds of people to read because they want to know more and are curious where you are going with it all.

69 Blog Posts You Won’t Comment On Or Read

A few days ago I heard from another old acquaintance on Facebook.

They said they had heard about my father and wanted to know if there is anything they can do to help. I said no and thanked them for their concern.

“Josh, let me help, don’t push me away.”

I pushed ‘cuz I don’t know what to ask for.

Should I ask them to pray the cancer magically disappears and that the dialysis and diabetes go away too?

Might help, can’t rule it out, but cannot count on it. Cannot give it a half a percent chance of working, but would be glad to be proven wrong.

Could ask them if they have a spare 10 million floating around and find lots of useful ways to apply that cash. I could fly back as often as needed, fly my folks around on a private jet and pay for home help.

Would be nice, but I am not going to ask. I don’t think I know anyone who can offer that and even if they could.

It is not pride, well, there might be a little but the reality is far away from that.

I don’t think of asking for help except for specific things. Medical referrals, equipment come to mind, but other than that I just don’t think about it.

Might be because I am used to doing things on my own or that I don’t speak freely with many or maybe it is something else.

Maybe it is because this is black and white to me. It is not a question of if, but of when with a focal point on how to fill the time in between.

Love hard. Live hard and hope that it is not just empty words.


Fear and I are frenemies now.

Old Frankie Fear took up residence a couple of years ago. That motherfucker showed up uninvited and brought a world of chaos with him and he did it before the cancer came.

But he didn’t realize I would grow accustomed to his presence and that I would never stop fighting…never.

There are moments of silence when I tolerate and or ignore his presence because you can’t be happy/sad/angry all the time.

You have to just roll with it and I have gotten to be a master at that.

But what about the 69 blog posts you won’t read or comment on?

You’re reading now, right? You’re following along trying to figure out WTF goes on in the cavernous hole between my ears.

The best blog post fit into educational, entertaining and or informative.

Those are the ones that keep readers from pointing and clicking their way to the next shiny object online.

If you don’t have one or more of those elements your readers won’t hang out with you.

All I did here was use a silly headline that I gambled would pull people in and hope the content that followed would be enough to keep them hanging around.

Experience suggests that it will work but I won’t know for certain until after I publish.

Where Do You Focus Your Energy?

I can name a half dozen friends who have lost a parent to terminal illness and another four or five whose parents were murdered or killed in car accidents.

Some of them have reached out to say to take advantage of this time and a few have said to be aware that grief is a ripe old bastard that will surprise me and not necessarily in a good way.

I thank them and do what I do.

Sometimes I vomit words upon these pages here ‘cuz it is healthier than filling my belly with ice cream, candy and pizza.

Sometimes I work out and hope that my body doesn’t break down ‘cuz I push hard.


And sometimes I go argue online about the president.

Sometimes people tell me I take it too seriously and I wonder when they’ll recognize they ought to start.

I want to believe I am wrong and that there is a method to the actions of the mad king but thus far I can’t see it.

It is possible and even probable that I am going harder at some of these people because dad’s cancer is a big pussy who won’t come out from his body to fight me.

I have asked it to, told it there has never been a better time to fight me.

It is not like I am still 20. I don’t spend two hours in the gym every day or have the benefit of a body with far fewer miles than this one.

I have to figure it is either a coward or it recognizes that even if I am a lesser man physically than I once was I am a far tougher and much meaner.

Life experience will do that to you, but it also provides you with the wisdom to know when to be soft and when to be hard.

It is knowing when to be a part of something and when to be apart.

That is what I am trying to teach my kids. It is not particularly profound, wish our president understood it too.

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