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Traffic by Ray Printer Friendly

So I was talking to Trey the other night, and he starts reading the statistics to me. Weíve been friends a long time, so most of the time, I can understand him. I mean, this is a guy that Iíve emptied hundreds of bottle of hard liquor with, and if you can understand what someoneís trying to tell you at six in the morning, after sixteen hours of hard drinking, youíve got some kind of bond. But when the guy start talking to me about chemistry, digital cameras, or computer shit, I might as well be trying to figure out the language of spiders, trees, or Oprah.

Quick aside: Oprah sucks. She is a government robot created by The Man to keep black people and women in line. It isnít the first attempt, but I would say that it is, by far, the most successful. Failed attempts include, but are not limited to: Paulie Shore (to control stoners), Friends (for young-to-middle-age hipster wannabes), Beverly Hills 90210 (also for young-middle-age hipster wannabes), Arnold Schwarzenegger (Iím not exactly sure what the demographic was here, but thereís no denying itófor shitís sake, the man has somehow managed to become governor! How else would you explain it, if not for government interference?), Barney (for tots), and the entire WB network (this was another attempt for the control of black people, but it failed miserably, and got out of hand. I think the G-men have actually tried to kill this channel and forget about their mistakes, but itís grown out of their control, and the only way to finally end the nightmare of the WB would be to nuke most of the planet). Mark my words, there will be a rant about Oprah in the futureóI just havenít been able to adequately channel my hatred into an understandable thought. Thinking about Oprah drives me into a rage so hardcore that I forget most of the English language and revert into animalistic growls and howls.

Anyways, back on topic. So Treyís muttering all kinds of numbers at me, along with words and phrases that I donít understand, and Iím listening in ignorance and watching the deer that is always hanging out in front of my apartment, eating grass at the same exact spot every night. Incidentally, itís also the spot where other people in the apartment take their dogs to piss, which leads me to believe that deer are into some pretty freaky shit. Like, during the work week, they go to their day jobs: hiding from hunters, looking all cute, and acting in Disney movies. At night, though, they go hang out at goth clubs, delve into self-mutilation, and hang out eating grass that every dog within a ten mile radius has been pissing on. Deer have problems, and should probably seek therapy.

What I understand, though, is that The Strangelands is much more popular than it was when we first started it. The first month, Iím pretty sure that Trey and I were the only ones looking at itÖand he only looked at it because he was making sure that it worked. I told all my friends and family to check out the site, and I think he did, too. We developed a loyal fan base of something like four people. And they werenít that loyal, if you want to know the truth.

Thatís sort of what I assumed we still had, until Trey posted his bit about our stats, and until he was running through some info the other night. The thing is, there are now people checking us out that we donít know. There are some people that post things on this site, we have no idea who they are. Itís cool, but itís sort of a weird feeling. Like if you were a kid with a secret hideout, you go down there, you cuss if you want, you make jokes that youíre not supposed to make, and you basically do whatever you want, because youíre sure that youíre so far below radar that no one will ever catch you. And then one day you go down to your little clubhouse and you find a bunch of empty beer bottles, a crumpled up pack of smokes, a pair of your momís underwear, and a murdered bum. You suddenly realize that there are things going on here that you just arenít really aware of.

ďThe question is, do we want more traffic?Ē Trey asked me.

ďSure, why not?Ē What harm could come from having fans? Right?

Thereís this website out there, written by this guy Maddox. If you havenít seen it, you should for sure check it out. This guy makes my hatred of the world look like Mr. Rogersí happy hug-time love hour.

I just found out about his site a few weeks ago, because Trey told me to check it out, and I was pissed that I hadnít seen it sooner. It doesnít get updated all that much anymore, but there are plenty of archives, and youíll get bored with yourself before you get bored with Maddox. Of course, if youíre the sensitive type, you should probably steer clear.

Anyways, I was reading through the earliest archives today, and I realized that Maddox started out as just some guy with a website. Just fooling around, posting stuff without thinking about the consequences, practically begging people to e-mail him. He has mind-blowing traffic these days, e-mails out the ass, and idiot bastards constantly writing him, telling him about how ďcuul n awsumĒ he is, or lunatics telling him about how heís Satan.

I donít know, man. Do you really want the lunatics finding out where you live? For every righteous fan you get that really appreciates your work, you end up with two dozen morons either screeching at you about how you rock, or jerks without the gift of humor talking about how youíre evil.

Do we want more traffic? Beats me, man. Might as well get some more readers. And if worse comes to worse, weíll change the e-mail address so that all the hate mail goes to an ex-girlfriend or something.


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