“Hey, dude."

“DUUUUDE!?! Where the hell you been?"

“Well, you know, dude. Out."

“No shit, dude. On a good day, you’re out. Way out. Out to lunch. With the scientologists. But you won the prize this time. I was just about to clear out your room. The rent’s gotta get paid, you know."

“Funny you should mention the rent …"

“Wha … What’s this? Real money? You’re not begging me off? What bank’d you rob to get it?"

“No bank, dude. All perfectly cool and legal."

“Ah huh. So why am I suddenly scared shitless?"

“No clue, dude. ‘Cept you scare easy. Or you’re allergic to cash or something."

“What I’m allergic to is suspense. What did you do?!?"

“Just blog. Like usual."

“Yeah? About what? And why don’t I know about it?"

“Thought I’d surprise you."

“You used up your quota already. And …?"

“So I grabbed a couple topics from stopbustingyoura**.payblog.co …"

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!! You didn’t, dude! Please say you didn’t! You sold us out!!"

“Say it in Braille, dude. I don’t got ears no more. What’s your problem, for chrissake? Everybody’s doin’ it."

“That’s precisely my point, moron. I used to read blogs to find out what people were thinkin’. Now they’ve all got For Sale signs on ‘em. Not always where you can see ‘em until too late, either. Christ, I was groovin’ a blog one day, thinking it was on the up & up, and then saw it was all an ad. For friggin’ White Castle they-have-the-damned-gall-to-call-‘em Hamburgers! Oey! Don’t people got no sense anymore?"

“Sense don’t pay the rent. Y’need dollars for that."

“Oh shut up, wise ass. I don’t need the pun police on top of all this. I’m pissed off enough. I mean, one cool blogger with lots of good things to say now says nothing unless it’s about jewelry. For another, it’s perfume. Or travel. I haven’t seen sneakers yet, but maybe that’s just because we’re on the wrong site. There’s no souls anymore, just sales."

“You watch a baseball game lately?"

“And what makes you think I have time or money for Major League Bottlebabies, genius? Major League PeaBalls? Which is what you get when you use that stuff they’re using. Try selling that on your blog, stud."

“They do, dude. Or haven’t you heard of erectile dysfunction?"

“Show me a chick who’s interested and I’ll tell you whether or not I know anything about erectile dysfunction. Or is it because you like showing off to yourself?"

“You shut up for once, dude. Look. You watch a game. Or listen to one on the radio. Somebody hits a home run. Sponsored by … Somebody hits a single. Courtesy of … Somebody fouls a ball off his foot, you get an ad for a hospital. That’s a baseball, damn you. Christ, somebody tells you the time, you get an ad for a watch maker. It’s the thing now, dude."

“Yeah, sure. So what’s our thing, P.T.? What do we got to sell? Insults?"

“Brought to you by …"

“Shaddap already!!"

“Look, do you want the money or not?"

“Like I got a choice. But hear this, buddy. When I’m blogging, I’m going to say what I’m going to say. Somebody wants to pay me for that, fine. But no corporate mogul’s going to put a bleedin’ muzzle on me and call it a contract. Not while I got any options."

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes today’s edition of Rants By Dude. Brought to you by …"

“Out! Out!! OUT!!!"

   - O Ceallaigh

Copyright © 2006 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.

All opinions are mine as a private citizen.