Hello all, my name is Divan Knockyard. You may know me from the blog you’re probably reading right now. Except, you don’t know me too well because I haven’t really written much. That’s partially my fault, but then again, you haven’t exactly been flooding my inbox with offers of blow jobs for blog posts, have you?

You see, here’s how I work. I write something, probably something hilarious, then I sit on it for months, even years. This is because, generally speaking, some things I write turn out shitty. Sometimes I can properly judge my work the minute it’s entered into the computer, sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes, I never realize it sucks and I die still thinking it’s awesomer than gossamer (this happens a lot). As you may guess, this method doesn’t work too well with the whole blogging paradigm.

So what do I do? I wake up one morning, completely broke but still fairly optimistic. I look at all these things I’ve written, dozens of articles, months and even years old, that I have ultimately deemed “funny.” I think, I should get a job as a writer, or submit these somewhere, or get a book published.

Oh wait, I then think, I’m a college dropout. I have a website with practically no regular readers and even less posts. Submit the articles where? Try to get a job somewhere? Make a living writing? Wouldn’t that require me to possess some minuscule amount of worth or appeal?

Then, understandably, I crawl into bed, assume the fetal position and bawl like a little baby. But not for long. I realize that I have many highly sought after skills. For instance, I can tell whether or not someone’s gay just by trying to have sex with them.

So maybe I should stop hoarding all my articles. Isn’t that why I have a blog in the first place? Didn’t I work my ass off on this site–designing, planning, naming–(okay, maybe Pierce did all that, but I sort of helped a little) because I wanted to give away all my hard work for free to millions of little ungrateful pissants who wouldn’t give me the time of day much less a following or a worthwhile career? Didn’t I? Fuck no.

I started a blog because I have things I’ve written that I want people to read. A book, tv, or movie deal would also be nice someday, but I’m not holding my breath. I want to make people to laugh, and then I want to use pending civil laws to force said people to pay me for services rendered, regardless of the lack of any existing contract between we parties. I want someday to end up in the same league as more famous online humorists, such as Maddox, those nameless, faceless Onion writers, and the dudes on Superdeluxe (the ones that get paid to submit, not the commoners). And once I’m in the same league as them, I’ll throw a big party and they’re all invited. And you’re all invited too! And we’ll salute the Statue of Liberty and the American Flag, and we’ll sing Christmas carols and make s’mores. It’ll be the best party ever, the crowning achievement of which will be me pulling out my shotgun and spraying my brains all over you shitheels, because I hate parties and I hate all of you. Get the picture?

Now go freeload off someone else’s blog.