Crowd Ignorance

Know your audience. It’s a cardinal rule of writing, so long as you’re not a humble monk or a pretentious rock lyricist claiming apathy toward their following. Strangely, as I wrote “cardinal,” the Catholic hierarchy popped into my mind. Reinforced by the idea that even a monk would have an audience – specifically, God. And yet, one Biblical meaning of “know” has a connotation that means knowing an entire audience would minimally be disturbing, and potentially lead to a bevy of lawsuits and personal appearances on the Maury Povich show. Running that tangent one step further, I had the bad fortune of seeing Nick Cage’s “Knowing” in the theater over the summer. Contradictory to the word, I’ve no clue why I did that.

I wonder whether it’d be worth my while to re-spew my Kitty Pool reports here. Rod was a former participant, Sue’s husband is a current player, and Jim Curran used to play football on Sunday afternoons before D&D marathons at the Lansdowne Library. That’s 50% of my followers with some tie-in to football. Recognizing my predestined inability to please all the people all the time (even if I knew them), shouldn’t half be sufficient to reprint my weekly commentary?

I suspect it’d be like retelling people about a fantasy football team. Which is pathetic. I could cross-culture my audience and tell the 20 Kitty poolers they have to get their updates here. With 20 people, that’d get me one/one-billionth towards Ashton Kutcher’s Twitterheads. Good. The less I have in common with Kelso, the happier I am.

After thinking (and still not conclusively knowing), methinks I’ll keep the entities separate. I’ll pen weekly football commentary, post here weekdaily, twice weekly with Gilthe, and occasionally submit something to SM. Plus I have five years of my original ten-year promise to myself to produce one of the plays I’ve written. And I haven’t submitted a children’s story for publication to a magazine in months. Ideas abound, but all ideas are crap until they’re written out.

I suppose I could be inspired/persuaded/funded to write something for a particular audience. So, for the minor disservice of this blog, please send me a dollar. With six of you, that’s a Happy Meal with an upgrade to a milkshake. Joy.

In the long run, here I am – unsurprisingly – babbling about nothing again. It’s a gift. In fact, it’s my exclusive, free gift to you. You’re welcome.