Inevitability Strikes Again

- 6

A smarter person would have stopped making fun of things by now. Because sure enough, anything that I really commit to open mockery, especially if I have done so on the record in a public forum (say, Thanksgiving dinner), is something I am sure to end up embracing later (with the exception of being tall… somehow no matter how much I blather about how stupid it must be to be able to reach the top shelf, I have remained a bottom dweller in the cereal aisle). The examples of this phenomenon in my life are many and varied — stick around here for a while and I am sure you will spot them.

But to the point at hand. Why would I have mocked blogging? Well, first of all, because it has an ugly name. I assume Al Gore came up with it, right after he invented the internet, because who else would think such an ugly word was clever? It is bad enough that we assume that anybody cares about our many and varied thoughts about (fill in the blank). But then we give it an ugly name and call it self expression.

I am more prone to reading food blogs than any other kind, and I have oft been made to wonder if infantilizing one’s readers is a prerequisite to writing a blog. Was it actually necessary to post 18 pictures of how to scoop flour into a measuring cup? Who uses measuring cups anyway? If you’re lucky, the man who handles my website (from here on out, we shall refer to him only as the Superior Nephew) will stick a picture up every now and again, so best to start sending him fruit baskets and tickets to Broadway musicals now if you are hoping for even a glimmer of visual respite from my wordiness.

This leads us, obviously, to blog hair. It is one of the greater mysteries on the internet to me, and one of the most challenging issues when I attempt to stop mocking blogging: every blog seems constructed in basically the same way — cutesy name at the top, ads all aflutter, too many pictures of absolutely nothing or of the author’s adorable kids (because seriously, what are you supposed to say? Gee whilikers, I am glad I saw your toddler stuffing his face with what I hope is peanut butter. That’s… adorable…), and then a little box off to the right introducing the author with something like, “Hi! I am Kayliee! My parents had trouble with vowels and I love the simple life” and so on, and then there is a picture of their smiling face. And now to the mystery: they all have the exact same haircut! How is that possible?? These are blogs written by women from around the country, different ages and situations in life, different blog content (sometimes), and yet somehow they all go to the same hairdresser? The mind reels.

And yet.

I have prepared my crow with care today and plan to chow down. That’s right. Meet UnPublish: the blog of Barbara Braendlein. I expect at least one of us will have a ripe old time here, peering at the world through the squints of old age and belly laughter, and commenting on what I see (don’t worry — with each passing year, the number of things I see gets fewer. This could end fairly quickly). You might glean encouragement or Biblical knowledge, you could get inspired to go play in your kitchen, you might decide to name your car or to attempt liquid eyeliner. You might just be driven to mock blogging.

Beware about that last one, though. In my experience, it comes back to bite you.

6 Responses

  1. Ellen
    | Reply

    YAY! You should have been blogging before it was even a thing. I will pay rapt attention, especially to future spiritual tidbits. I doubt you will EVER motivate me to do anything in the kitchen or attempt anything in the makeup department. But a belly laugh is always welcome. Consider me already your biggest fan. (Ask Superior Nephew: “How does Ellen know when I’ve posted something new?” I hope there’s a setting to click or something because I do not want to miss a word.)

    • barb
      | Reply

      That is a fantastic question. My best solution at the moment is to just give up having a life, take up drinking, and hover on this website until something happens. I’m pretty sure the right sort of drinking will make me sound brilliant.

    • Hans Winckler
      | Reply

      Hey Ellen! Superior Nephew here! Through a mixture of furious googling, inherent brilliance, and only the bare minimum of testing, there is now a page which has a form you can fill out to subscribe to the blog. Is it the prettiest, most efficient solution? Negatory, Ghostrider. But it works. Maybe. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? The cry goes down Main Street: “Hans has tried his best, hopefully it works out.”

      Anyway, you (with your consent of course, this is 2022, after all), will be a sort of guinea pig. Good luck!

      • barb
        | Reply

        The Psmith in me nods to the Psmith in you. Well done, Superior Nephew.

  2. Holly
    | Reply

    Ellen forwarded you blog to me and told me to start at the beginning ~ it did not disappoint!
    Anxious to read more and catch up! I used to blog but never had the patience to take a thousand pictures and come up with content. It was mostly a journal with some photos of my (family life), but I realized after a few years that while I had a small following, none of them were family. Go figure.
    Anyway…you have a gift with words and I look forward to reading more!

    And I think Superior Nephew inherited the same gift from you!

    • barb
      | Reply

      Pleasure to meet you! And you are correct — I have tried to claim responsibility for his obvious brilliance, but in truth, I believe he gets his knack with words from his dad. 🙂 My Superior Nephew is one of my favorite things about this blog.

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