So for two months straight now, I've foregone my conventional blogging to bring you, my extended Cracked family, the video segment I like to call Hate By Numbers
. And so many wonderful things have come from it. For one, Mike Swaim finally returns my phone calls. It used to be all "Sorry Gladstone. Can't talk. Me and Abe are flying off to Cancun to film Internet Party 3: Electric Booga-YouTube
." Now it's, "Hey, Gladstone. Ha. I hate Kid Rock too! He sure is worth hating. Can I come over and hate stuff with you.... and do you still have that sexy dog of yours?"
Also, I've made some fun and exciting friends out west and in English-speaking foreign lands. (Interestingly enough, however, no one on the eastern seaboard seems to think very much of me or what I do.) But safe to say that this hodgepodge of English, Irish, Australian, and Americans in earlier time zones has filled the void left by the east coast's personal rebuke.
I've also learned the thrill of what it's like to be called a smug, smarmy douchebag by hundreds of diggers while a greater number of their digg brethren register their support for me anonymously with a simple digg click and shame-filled silence.
But there's been bad stuff too. I heard Mike Myers on the radio the other day promoting