lets go partner
17mph rocketship to the superbowl!
Join Date: Oct 2004
Dear Main Stream Media:
I'd just like to start by saying how very, truly sorry I am about this whole "blogging" thing. I didn't realize that one schmo typing internet gibberish from his parent's basement would cause such a fuss. Really, I'm sorry. We used to be such good friends, too. Remember when you would meet me on the TV in my living room after class? Even late at night, you were there for me with your ever-running Sportscenters. How did everything go so horribly wrong?
We used to understand each other and help each other out. You with your funny Kenny Mayne, helping me to forget about my troubles. In turn, I watched your shows, read your newspaper and magazine articles. One time, I even bought one of your Sports Illustrated TV offers because you were going through a rough patch!
Actually, I guess the real question is, when did you change?
I've always been here, giving in to your new features and mediums. When the internet first came about, I visited your official website loyally looking for the newest news and views. I remember way back when I used to look forward to the morning paper everyday to see if my team had won on its west coast road trip.
Back then, you used to be cool. You used to be hip. Then, one day, I started to make some new friends. I branched out and became more social. I grew up. The whole time, you did nothing but ignore me and tell me how we were falling apart. Now, it's like we don't even know each other. Sure, when we pass on the street you're holding hands with that guy, but it's OK. I'm over it. We smile and nod as we walk by each other, but then I can hear you say horrible things behind my back. Things like, "I wish you didn't exist," "you're always making **** up" and "you can never be as good as me." You know something? That hurts. That really freaking hurts.
What happened? It's not like I'm trying to step on your turf. I never claimed to be a journalist. I never thought for a second that I could do your job better than you. And heck, nowadays you're all over the TV. I would kill to be on TV! I would never mess with your gigs. You gave me my start for God's sake! I wouldn't know anything about sports if it wasn't for you. It's just that I have a real passion for sports. I love them so much, that I need them 24/7. I need to watch them, hear about them, read about them, talk about them and now, type about them. I guess that's just what happens when all you ever did was feed me sports all these years, simply encouraging me to watch, read and talk about them more and more. Just because you're old and out of touch doesn't mean we can't still be friends. Heck, maybe all you really need is a make over!
But really, come on. You are equally to blame when it comes to making things up. You're starting to try and imitate me too, with your "media blogs." Don't even get me started on this you two-timer. All I will say is, isn't imitation the most sincere form of flattery?
Wait. No, stop. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry.
Look, I could sit here and blame you all I want, but that's not going to change anything. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. I can't stand it when we fight. What we need is a solution. Yes, that would be a good, positive start. How about this... I promise to stop playa hatin on you so much, if you'll just get off my back and let me do my thing. I still watch you. I still read your columns, especially the online ones (I even link to them!!). Maybe we could even collaborate on some stories. Heck, I'll man up and apologize in front of everyone. How does that sound?
No? You don't like that idea?
Please, honey. Be reasonable! Everyone knows that you can't stop change and progress. Sometimes things are just meant to be a certain way. Look, I want what's best for you. That's why I want you to come on over here and try out blogging for yourself. What if...
What?? I'm a dirty cheating back stabber?
Well fine, then. Have it your way. Maybe I'll see you at the class reunion in twenty years. Oh, wait. No I won't, cause you'll be long gone by then. Long gone and forgotten. How do you like them apples??