It’s my anniversary post

I just looked at the calendar and to my utter amazement, this week marks the eighth anniversary of my first post to the Sideways View. A lot of you will say congratulations, well done, good job, or even “Hey dirtbag, pay me that cash you owe me!!”

To most of you, thanks for encouraging my idiocy. Admittedly, I could’ve done it without you, but having you there makes me feel a lot less insane when I’m off my meds. So, thanks again. To Dave, I promise to get that money to you soon. Hey it’s only been eight years. Be a little patient, for crying out loud.

But not a normal one

I actually thought about making this a sappy post full of remembrances, and perhaps rehashing some of my old writing. I’m not going to do any of that. Frankly, because I don’t remember what I was doing eight years ago. That’s a lot of warped children, hyperactive pets, laughing at stupid folks, and battles with technology, ago. I thought about reading some of those old posts, but laziness took over, and I took a nap. Don’t judge! Naps are important too, ya know.

The real mystery that struck me when I thought of this milestone was; Why are silly boy bands more famous than I am? They can’t even play their own instruments or write their own songs. I can do both of those things.

Sure, the guys are really cute and can sing up a storm. I can do those things too. Why, just the other day I started singing and there was a monsoon. Some naysayers might scream, “It wasn’t a storm. Your neighbor just sprayed you with the hose to get you to stop!” Look, I was melodic, and there was lots of water all around. I prefer to see the positives, and believe I sang up a storm. End of story.

Ho do I do it?

I analyzed the situation and realized there are three ways to become famous. First is to have an uncle in the business. Second, is to be very lucky. And third is to piss off Taylor Swift something fierce. Now anybody who’s read these posts will know I’m not lucky at all, and if I knew someone famous, I would have complained about them several times by now. That leaves only the third option.

I guess there’s also the possibility of becoming famous by being talented, working very hard, and having a dragon as a pet. But seriously, who wants to go to all that trouble? Face it, dragons just can’t be house-broken. No matter how many times you spray them with the water bottle. And don’t even get me started about unicorns. Those things are fertilizer factories. And you’ll just never get that ugly stain out of the rug.

So here’s my plan

So, we’re down to pissing off Taylor Swift. This is the best way to become famous for two reasons. First, she is frankly, really easy to anger. Just look at news sites and magazine racks. Taylor’s mad at somebody new every week. That person gets so much free publicity. Sure, the story is about Taylor, but there is also page after page around the one who did her wrong.

I once saw an article on how XYZ pasta sauce was too hot and burned her billion-dollar tongue. It ranted about kitchen safety, and how it could have ruined her singing career. They screamed the product should have a label stating, “Caution!! If you heat this product on a stove, or in a microwave, it’s going to be very hot. Honestly, if you heat up anything, no matter how, it’s going to be hot. We thought this would be obvious, and consequently didn’t include this stupid safety label. But now our product burned Taylor. So, here’s the idiotic label. Are you folks at the Product Safety Commission happy now?”

You’d think this would be bad for the sauce makers. But you’d be wrong. No one pays attention to product labels. They’re only there to cover somebody’s butt. On the other hand, fans, of which she has many, will read the article and shriek, “Taylor Swift likes XYZ pasta sauce!!! I’ll go buy a hundred cases, and be just like Taylor!!” Albeit, without the money, talent, good looks, and badly named pets. XYZ’s sales soared. I bet they even sent Taylor a free case to thank her for being careless in the kitchen.

An even better reason

The second reason going after Taylor is best for becoming famous is that she writes a song about anyone who crosses her. I mean there’s even a song about an old house she bought. The reason for the tune doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact the song suddenly becomes part of the national consciousness. It’s all over the internet in a matter of seconds. For example; Taylor sings an upbeat number about how Billy Kostakovich did her wrong by putting too much vanilla foam on her cold-brew. Suddenly the name Kostakovich is on everybody in America’s lips. Well, the lips that can pronounce it, anyway.

Billy becomes barista of the year. CNN suddenly demands an interview regarding his questionable coffee foaming techniques. His face is plastered across every tabloid there is, asking whether it was a mistake or if Billy is a space alien without vanilla knowledge. All of a sudden, the guy is everywhere.

While it’s easy to spark the ire of Ms. Swift, it’s difficult to get to her. She travels in a private jet, stays in exclusive, high-security hotels, and is constantly surrounded by an entourage, which I’m sure contains at least one fire-breathing manticore. It’s a problem. However, this problem brings me full circle, back to my eighth anniversary. “How?” you may ask. Well, if you’d give me a few seconds, I’ll explain it. Geez, the impatience of some folks.

What I really need

It is said, every person in the world is connected to every other person by six degrees of separation. This simply means that one or more of you folks knows someone, who knows someone, who knows someone, who knows Taylor Swift. It is for this reason; I need your help. For my anniversary, I’d like this simple gift. Start the ball rolling.

Get this post to everyone you know. Then tell them to pass it on. Eventually is has to cross the lady’s eyes, and she’s bound to be incensed by my not-so-thinly veiled insults. She’ll immediately put out a statement denouncing me. Heck, with any luck she’ll sue me for damages. Since I have the innate ability to create massive amounts of chaos, that suit could go on forever. The publicity would be amazing.

Folks all over the world would undoubtedly ignore the fact she hates me and think, “Taylor reads Mr. Ohh!” My stats would soar. Magazines would want to interview me. I’d be able to charge for public appearances. I might even be able to hire someone take care of my cat. Let some stranger bleed for a while. Probably not. I’m attached to that animal, quite literally, by her long and very sharp claws.

You have your assignment. It’s been a great eight years. Thanks for being there.

Unless you’re imaginary, like my other friends!!