stupidtom.com

OK, I found a backdoor by typing the specific address of the admin page for this thing but I have a feeling that it will close when I’m done here. For those of you who don’t know or care about the mechanics of this whole web logging thing ignore the buzzing in your head and read on in comfort. The content Nazis over at WebSense are a clever bunch and you can’t fool them for long. The reason I’m even posting this right now is to announce a change in the posting schedule. From now on I will be writing and publishing this crap at night rather than early in the morning.

Not a big deal and I even squeezed out some content over the weekend to help out with the time change. For all I know this change might improve my writing. Pausing to allow your laughter to die down… there… are you finished? That’s all because I cant shake the feeling that there’s someone staring over my shoulder ready to cut my internet umbilical at any minute.

That’s right, I said it. My days as the master of my own interweb site have come to screeching halt. This doesn’t mean that I will stop this nonsense train it just means that I’m stepping away from the dorky underbelly. As I am a full day into a colossal screw-up of stupidtom.com I can post about this boring shit right now because absolutely no one is reading it. I have moved back from my own space to the safety of my former home where they take care of everything and all that I need to worry my pretty little head about is the typing.

I have always considered writing about what goes on behind the writing a blog-on-blog crime. Very few of the folks who read this crap care anything about what system I use to churn it out or any problems that I have getting that done. Most of my customers just want a little taste of me as they ramble around the internet. It’s a simple and almost perfect relationship. I have a need to produce this stuff and they for some reason like to drop by and read it.

The problems start when I have a little more than my normal ten minutes on my hands and I start messing with the look and feel. Then throw in the fact that there are those who have even more spare time than I who have nothing better to do that look for security vulnerabilities in web log software requiring constant and annoying updates. What the hell, do they think I am typing some kind of coded international monetary transactions?

Then one of you little fuckers get in and start mucking things up beyond my ability to fix. If you need a hobby might I suggest masturbation? It is really a much healthier outlet for your malicious aggression. Plus, you jerking off in your room alone with the door locked so your mom doesn’t walk in doesn’t aggravate me to the point of hunting you.

Let me know if you need me to write a letter of annoyance for your hacker portfolio. This is going to be quite the feather in your propeller cap. You hacked in to the ultra secure stupidtom dot com headquarters and forced them to move their substantial ecommerce business over to another site. You fucking twerp.

If you have been around and reading for a while this is going to bore you so move along with your internet day. Nothing to see here folks, just move along. I’m writing this because I have a few new readers according to what my stats tell me and not everyone knows what this nonsense is all about. I’ll try to be brief and to the point but that’s not really one of my strong points.So this whole thing started when I worked days and Liza worked nights. After Katie would go to sleep around seven thirty I had a lot of time to kill so I turned to computers. I won’t get in to the boring details there but let me sum up by saying that I quickly became bored with the technical end of things and wanted to actually do something with the machine that I built. I thought about writing a book but that task is just as scary today as it was fifteen years ago. Then I got my hands on a pirated copy of some web page building software and I started producing some of the worst shite ever experienced on the interweb. It was made worse by the fact that I kept coming back every day and changing it because I had nothing better to do.

I started writing little stories to entertain myself and I put them on the front page for no one to see because my web address was something catchy like www.home.attbi.com/users/usnwril/~sgmril1gnlrcfvdg-gr333/home/index.html. I had to have it written down under my keyboard with my passwords so you know no body else could find it. That’s when I started looking for my own domain name. stupidtom.com was the product of a three day search and me just giving up. It was the beginning of the domain name rush and anything remotely cool or funny was claimed and waiting on a pay day. So I had a name, a web host, an extremely shitty page, and putting anything on it became a total pain in my nuts.

Then some awesome people named Pyra came out with internet diary software that they called Blogger. It turned out that what I had been doing was called web logging and these geniuses kind of mashed the two words together to form their company. I didn’t care I was hooked and soon I figured out how to point stupidtom toward my new site. (by the way that douche-bag who claims to have invented Bennifer and Branjelina owes those people some money or at least props, sorry, digression.) There is another long and boring litany about the different software and my stint as a blogware whore but let’s skip that for now.

This was a long way to get to the real reason that I write in this thing every day. I want to leave this stuff for my kids. I know that sounds a little corny but sometimes the truth is just that. I am not a bad dad but I refuse to raise assholes. And to get my children ready for the world I sometimes go to extremes. I have great kids but to this point in their lives they can only see a couple of sides of me and I want the crap I write down in this thing to be a peek at the bigger picture.

I don’t necessarily write everyday with that in mind I just want them to know me on different terms at some point in their lives. This will also act as a roadmap through my impending diet pop induced dementia. So I write away, whatever is sitting on the top of my skull at the moment. And when I post it, there it sits, no go backs, no edits, once it’s laid it’s played. This also explains the multitude of errors I generate but there is a lot of my so why don’t you go ahead and bite some.

I did have a dream of publishing this whole mess and giving it to Katie as a gift when she left for college but it would appear that I outlasted the company I was going to use. I think the good people at blogbinders.com had a great idea I’m just not sure enough people knew about it. If I had the money and time I’d buy the thing and market it to businesses as a way to print out and archive their corporate websites as well as bind up my fellow bloggers. WOW, way off track again and I just noticed that this has taken an extra ten minutes and is about twice as long as I like. Sorry about that, carry on with your days.

In a comment a couple of days ago abarclay of leaky brain fame asked me what my right nut was named. I am the worst at this whole comment responding thing and I make no secret about that fact. If they didn’t get sent to my gmail inbox I probably wouldn’t know that they were there. Having said that I truly love comments and should be working on some type of response system but what can I say, I am a fuckup in this regard. So back to the naming of my nuts.

My testicles have always had the privilege of carrying multiple names. Aside from the normal Boys, Twins, Fellas, I like to give them funny names that I stumble upon. Oh, your cousin’s name is Clarence, what a coincidence; my left nut is named Clarence too. That kind of thing. I also like giving them Radio Disk Jockey names as they too usually come in pairs and that makes me laugh. Reminding myself to give Opie and Anthony a good scrubbing while I’m in the shower cracks me up. I don’t know why and I don’t really care.

I have more on the naming of my knuttsons but I am out of time. I’m busy stuffing ten pounds of shite in an eight pound bag.