Monday, July 11, 2005
I am a Shameless Blog-pimp.
Yup, I know. I've been pimpin' my blog around and so managed to get that few more hits. Cheap thrill, eh? But you know, like the theme song to Pimp My Ride goes, "So you wanna be a playa, but your wheels ain't fly"... well, if you think along those lines, go off track a little, and then take the sliproad to Out-of-Pointville, you'll figure out why I absolutely have to prostitute (<---this word gets me even more hits from Google searches) my blog.
Picture yourself, horny pubescent teenage boy (this is really just an EXAMPLE. It might, however, apply to you if your name is, say, Desmond) blog-hopping. So you're at your friend's blog, and looking for a new read. Which link do you click on? Well, of course, it's Shirley or Patricia or Jennifer or Angel, BUT CERTAINLY NOT WEIMING! I mean, Weiming sounds just about as exciting as a half-ripe peanut! Just to prove a little point, let's look at the number one result returned by Google on the search parameter "weiming", shall we.
Tu Weiming, Harvard-Yenching Professor of Chinese History and Philosophy and of Confucian Studies at Harvard University and Director of the Harvard-Yenching Institute, was born in February 1940 in Kunming, China. He grew up in Taiwan and obtained a B.A. in Chinese Studies at Tunghai University (1961). He received his M.A. (1963) and Ph.D. (1968) both at Harvard. He taught Chinese intellectual history, philosophies of China, and Confucian studies at Princeton University (1967-71) and University of California at Berkeley (1971-81). He also taught at Peking University, Taiwan University, the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and L'Ecole Pratique des Haute E’tudes.
Now don't you just need to read his blog already. No, seriously.
I mean, it's not like hits really matter that much to me. But it's nice to have the odd person actually REPLY to my posts. My pet hamster George seems to be more responsive to me than the readership of this blog! George died, oh, about 10 years ago, by the way. No, my name is not John Nash.
Anyway, I have devised a theory. One which involves my fatness being inversely proportional to the distance Pet is from me (No, Pet, seriously). Now that you're tucked away safely in cheerful, blisteringly cold NZ, I have miraculously regained my taste for oatmeal and all things cardboard. I shall write a paper on this, and dedicate it to you. Now, now, don't get all sheepish (Erm, sheep. NZ. Geddit? Geddit?). Ok you're going to shoot me now, aren't you.
Oh don't have a cow.
I'm sorry. Couldn't resist it.
But you have to admit, IT IS FUNNY!
11:14 AM
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