Sunday, July 31, 2005

When I was born for the 7th time

So my main man Pinko Punko has succeeded in dragging me, kicking and screaming, back into tha blog hood, after a year-plus hiatus. I usedta be a big name, I coulda been a contender, yadda yadda yadda, but between my career and my deep, deep shame at having endorsed the war in Iraq (Atrios described my situation pretty well: "9/11 drove a lot of people a little bit crazy, understandably. And, sadly, a lot of those people felt it necessary to suspend their distrust of the Bush administration."), I ended up letting things slide. And to think, I was once among the top 100 on NZ Bear's Blog Ecosystem (what's funny is that since then -- say about three years ago -- so many new, even less-read blogs have appeared that my relative ranking in the ecosystem has gone up while my absolute ranking has gone way down).

But enough talking smack about my formerly bad-ass self. Suffice it to say that I'm back, bitches, at least until I get bored or too busy again. In the meantime, while I sit back and wait for the world to piss me off, I'm taking on a project suggested by Pinko and Mrs. Booty, and taking a trip down memory lane into...the Black Hole of My Old Blogroll.

You see, prior to chiggity checking myself before wriggity-wrecking myself, I had a pretty serious flirtation with the Right, one that preceded my blog and even preceded 9/11. I've since reverted to the opinion I had back in college, what might be called the Mary McCarthy theory of the Right ("Every word a conservative says is a lie, including 'and' and 'the'"), but in the late '90s, for one reason or another, I fell under their sway.

(Actually, what happened was that, baffled by Clinton-hatred and perhaps a bit tired of the multi-culti pieties of the Northeast, I decided to investigate "why they hate us", and actually began to visit right wing websites and reading the Weekly Standard and other organs of the faith. What happened next was something I should have seen coming from every serial killer movie: to catch a killer, you have to think like a killer, but where do you draw the line? In my case, I already had my basement freezer half-full of body parts before I realized that I'd gone too far. "We aren't so different after all, are we, Special Agent Johnson?")

So as part of my mission of atonement, I will be going over some of the more egregious members of my blogroll, and possibly try to explain what I was thinking at the time. I'll go in ascending order of awfulness, crescendoing with the worst...blogger...ever... And the best thing is that he and most of the rest still have my old blog on their blogrolls, thus inflating my Ecosystem rating (I'm now a Marsupial, whereas in the long-ago era before every tragic high schooler had a totally-unread blog about Dashboard Confessional, I never rated higher than a Rodent). Thanks, suckas!