Self-Indulgent, Self-Referential Self-Interlocution

“Just how irrelevant is your blog?” I asked myself the other day. I had to ask myself because no one asks me questions, because nobody cares what I think about anything.

“Pretty irrelevant,” I said. “On a good day, there are ten or eleven visitors, who stay an average of about a minute and twenty seconds, which is just long enough to see that there is nothing here about Justin Bieber or Paul Ryan.”

“But that should be a draw! A world without those two would surely be a better place.”

“One would think,” I said.

The conversation fell silent for a while, and we stared at the wall.

“Wait, ‘we‘?” I said.

“You know,” replied myself, “me, myself, and I.”

“But that’s three and we’re only two. Where’s me?”

I laughed. “You’ll have to ask me sometime. And I think that we makes four of us: me, myself, I, and we. You know, the royal we.”

“That sounds like dualism. Or is it an emergent property of me, I, and myself?”

“Maybe it’s property dualism. Hard to say,” I said.

“Even harder to think. But wait a minute—shouldn’t there be a fifth around here: what about you?”

“Me, myself, we, you, and I?”


“I suppose so. This is turning into quite the party. Where are all these fellows?”

“Right here, idiot!”

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.”

“Neither did we.”

“Your ignorance astounds me.”

We rolled our eyes.

“Hey, which one of us is the narrator?”

“Naturally, I am,” I said, throwing in the ‘naturally’ to avoid making myself sound theologically supernatural. I had to assert my priority, but I preferred to avoid controversy and keep things quiet, to prevent myself from making trouble. We always hates that. Yes, we hates it.

“Speaking of making trouble, have you noticed that our corner of the blogosphere has become pretty isolated?”

“Blogospheres don’t have corners, you idiot.”‘

“Metaphorically. You know. And woods don’t have necks, either. But here we are.”

“Yes,” I said. “And in the last couple weeks, I’ve had comments on two different other blogs disappear into moderation. They weren’t intemperate or even that interesting! But—shoop!—down the memory hole.”


“I guess we’ll just have to keep talking to ourselves.”

“Quite right,” I said.

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