3:55 a.m. - 2002-10-24
Nazi Regime Unveiled
I'm similar to the sniper, in a way.
Except I use my diary instead of a shotgun.
His thrill is reading the news about himself.
I like hearing about myself too! Like, when people list me in Diaryland as being one of their "favourites".....and when they have comments written about me, that really knocks my socks off.
It makes me feel like God.
Not that it really matters....It's just a shitty little diary, and neither you nor me are getting paid for this crap.
But still...
And so I was perusing Diaryland the other day, and reading comments, and crap like that....and I realized that there's this whole elite "underground" community of Diaryland writers.
It's like this Diaryland subculture with their own hidden agenda.
Here's what I mean: As I write, I have 50 Diaryland users who have me listed as one of their favorites.
Not bad, not bad...And I looked at other people's profiles. Most had 5 or 6 people at best. Lots of people don't have ANYBODY listing them.
How depressing!
So once again, just like the sniper, I felt like God.
"I rule Diaryland," I thought.
Not that it matters....
But I noticed some other diaries seemed to be mentioned a lot.
I won't give away their names, but one was written by an elderly "uncle" named Robert....and another diary plays with the overly-used idea that girls are mean.
This Uncle character had over 1,000 people listing him as their favorite.
What the?!
Who the fuck is this loser?
And that's when it became clear to me....this whole underground subculture of elite diary writers. And it's all because of diaryrings, and paying for Diaryland membership.....and probably the fact that these fat fucks have been writing in Diaryland since 1987.
It reminds me of Hitler's Third Reich.
It's spooky.
Who wants to read about some fat, old pedophile talk about his relationship with his wife?
Not me.
Who wants to hear a group of acne-faced kids whine about how they get dumped by girls all the time?
And then I found another diary, which I believe is the ringleader of the Nazi regime that has formed in the bowels of Diaryland. Again, I refuse to say the name of the diary, so as not to give them free advertisement....but let's just say that they pride themselves on interviewing selected diary writers.
Those crybaby anti-girl guys had been interviewed, I saw.
That fat, old, uncle had been interviewed.
The interviewing diary says that they only interview elite diaries, diaries which are popular amongst others, in an effort to get inside the mind of the world's most beloved diary writers.
What a crock of horseshit.
What happens is this: If you want to be interviewed you send them an e-mail, they'll peruse your diary and determine if your diary is popular enough, and if they choose to interview you they ask you 20 questions about your life and insights on the world based on what they know about you from your diary.
I tried to apply, not to be outdone by these other crock of shit diaries...and I got a message saying "Sorry, we are not accepting new interview applicants at this time."
Not that it really matters, right?
But still...What's a guy gotta do to get some Diaryland attention around here? Shoot somebody in the head from 100 yards away?
(Don't worry....That little sniper joke isn't going to send me to Hell. I already have a reserved seat in Hell from last September 13, two days after the terrorist attack, when I said out loud in a bar, "What's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here? Crash a plane into a tall building?")
It wasn't received well.
Anyways, regarding Diaryland, I realized that my previous views on popularity had been all wrong. I had been thinking about it the wrong way. So has the sniper. You can't beg for popularity. It has to just happen.
I realized that the 50 people listing me are more important than the 1,000 that Uncle Fatass has listing him.
Think of how much he had to whore his diary to people, think of how much money he paid on Diaryland membership so he could get his diary banner flashed on to 1,000 other people's diaries, and then he had to BEG the interview site to interview him.
I got 50 people listing me...and countless others who read my diary regularly but are too lazy to list me....and I didn't do jack shit to get the recognition except sit here and write some garbage in my diary every once in a while.
A real man doesn't apply to be interviewed....He lets people apply to interview him.
Which is what I'm doing:
Although I refuse to be mixed in with the "diary elite", I've decided that anybody who's anybody should be interviewed.
20 Questions....just like Playboy does each month.
So, I'm looking for somebody who feels that they "know" my diary to ask me 20 questions, so I can publish the interview in an upcoming entry of mine. Somebody familiar with my writings, who can ask me important questions that matter....questions that the rest of the world is dying to know the answers to. None of that "What is your favorite color" nonsense...But the questions can be totally up to you!
It's YOUR interview!
You won't be paid or compensated in any way....nor will you really benefit from it. But, you'll be an investigative journalist for a day. Like Walter Cronkite and Barbara Walters! The media!
That will be you!
Maybe you'll even make me cry, the way Barbara Walters makes her guests cry.
You'll be joining the ranks of investigative journalists around the world who make the search for truth their reason to exist. "Information" will be your Holy Grail.
And, just like how the sniper is sitting at home right now, masturbating to all the news coverage about himself that the media is broadcasting...I too will experience orgasmic delight from the media attention put on me.
Even if it is just a shitty little interview for a shitty little diary....
So, if you're interested in interviewing me, e-mail me at [email protected] with a shitty little paragraph about why you think you would make the best interviewer. All entries must be received by November 1, 2002.
The best one wins...(or "loses"...if being forced to waste your time thinking of 20 questions, without getting paid, is not your idea of "winning")....
Plus, there's that whole "orgasmic delight" thing....
I mean, if you can't actually be here in person to give me a handjob, the least you can do is fucking interview me, right?
