Who cares?

Yesterday, my wife Teri mentions this blog and that she showed it to some people at work. In particular the entry a couple of weeks ago about the difficulty in opening cereal boxes. She then asks, in a way I'm sure meant as nothing but loving support, "Doesn't it seem weird that anyone would care to read about such dull minutia?".

I really wasn't sure how to answer this question. I suppose it IS strange that anyone would give a shit that I had trouble getting into my Cinnamon Life one morning. I mean I thought I had sort of diffused that a little by putting a picture of whiney Mcbitch-a-lot Andy Rooney next to the article, but in the end, it's still a pretty insignificant event I suppose.

But then it occurred to me that it takes about 45 seconds for the average reader to get through each of these blurbs, and I'm not charging money to read it, and it's really just an open forum to make me feel like I've gotten my smartass comment about this-or-that out into the world for the day, so fuck it. I don't as of now have any plans to mass market this thing. The target audience for this thing is men, my age, who are me (line stolen from Andy Kindler).

So let the irony soak in like butter on corn, a comment about minutia has lead to more minutia. And the circle of life has come 'round again.