not to reference portnoy at all, not that i want to diminish his complaint, whatever it was, because everybody's got the right to complaint, after all (and you, yes you there, the one who found this post by searching for portnoy's complaint for some book report or whatever, yes you, you have the right to complain too, unless you plaig... plageriz... pla... cut and paste this witty missive into your report, in which case, you did it to yourself so you have nothing to complain about)...
but naturally, ego's complaint is you might be the only one who ever finds all the wonderful words and nonsense i've put on line and written for years, since the dawn of time, even, and i don't have any sort of massive following of crazed fans twittering and tossing underwear (or their cookies, chocolate chip please) at their computers as if i could see (hey, turn on your webcams before you do that sort of thing, aye?) all about how wonderfully in love they are with my amazing cleverness and lovely way with words...
i don't have time for the time it takes to grow an audience of nubile young innocents and their mothers of text phone junkies who worship the written word (i had more written word worshippers in the eighties before al gore and rocky invented the internet, after all)...
i mean, i'm not craig ferguson, but i do have a quip or two worth noticing now and then... and ego, of course, believes i should have millions of ranting and raving fans waking each morning to rush over to their computers just to see what i might have written overnight...
seriously, where are the intelligent people who would recognize the priceless value of reading me?...
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