HILL BLOCKS VIEW IS DEAD.
...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. email@example.com
Saturday, March 16, 2013
|How I'm sure my followers greet each new post on Hill Blocks View.|
I'm famous! I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but there is no doubt about it, I have arrived. How can I be so sure, you might ask. Have I been showered with wealth, or torched in a new Taylor Swift song? No, I would reply. I know that I am famous because of the literally tens of comments I receive every day proclaiming what a great and famous blogger I am. The great thing is I don't really have to write anything anymore; the accolades just pour in. Practically ever hour I am showered with the love of my adoring masses. And I love them all in return. But does Google, who provides me with my site, appreciate my fans as much as I do? They do not. As a matter of fact they are downright hostile to my Hill-ions. Just because my fans are foreigners with weird sounding names, Google deems them as second class citizens, condemning them to the digital rubbish heap. They even go so far as to classify them as SPAM and not allow them access to the comment sections of my blog.
How insulting! Everybody knows that SPAM is considered an inferior meat product. In labeling my faithful as SPAM they are in fact saying that they are not even real people. Completely unacceptable. Just because you have a weird sounding foreign name, like Habib, or Raul or Mike, you should not be discriminated against. I for one have had enough! So rise up and let your voices be heard! If your name is Realviag Raonline, or Attractn Ewfollowers, or Hotlocalho Okups, don't be ashamed! Comment away. And demand that Google suspends their discriminatory practice of labeling you "anonymous" and throwing you to the side. And thank you for telling me how awesome I am, and, why yes, I would love to learn how to growvegtablesinyourbathtub.net.
Not a real site... I don't think. If it becomes one, perhaps I should get some royalties for my brain fruit. Speaking of brain fruit, I hereby officially trademark Hill-ions. And brain fruit. And blunking: the act of blogging while intoxicated. (Drunken+blogging) And anything that comes to your mind when you read that last bit, and think of something even funnier; that's mine too.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
My friend Aaron is running for pope. I'm not sure if he's qualified, seeing as he isn't Catholic and all. But he's a bona fide pastor, and I know him, so I'm throwing my support his way. I advice any high ranking Roman Catholic cardinals that are followers of Hill Blocks View to do the same. Remember; Giesler For Pope in 2013. Here are some of my promotional ideas.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
There was just something about Snake. For some odd reason women were unaccountably attracted to him. Perhaps it was his unconventional handsomeness. With his brilliant blue eyes, perfectly straight teeth, tanned skin, swimmer's build and movie star hair. Maybe it was because he was rebellious and wild; he sometimes paired white wine with beef, he ran an underground poetry club out of the back of his mechanic's shop, and he hardly ever drank his required eight class of water per day.
Surely, some women were drawn to the taboo of the boy from the other side of the tracks, and although Snake Vanderbilt-Carnegie-Rockefeller was always too ashamed to let anyone know where he lived, everyone in town knew he went home to the embarrassingly unobtrusive, forty room mansion on the hill. No, nobody could exactly put their finger on what was so attractive about Snake.
He had appeared mysteriously at the hospital maternity ward nearly thirty years ago, and had been spreading his brand of danger and trouble ever since. As a child he ran wild in the streets, staying out until until all hours of the early afternoon, wreaking havoc on the litter beside the highway, hanging out in alleys serving meals to homeless families and engaging in wanton violence at the local MMA gym. As a teenager, he was constantly at odds with his classmates for wrecking the curve in both math and P.E.
After barely graduating high school as Valedictorian in three excruciatingly short years, Snake took his traveling mayhem to MIT. In short order they decided they had had enough of Snake's antics, and they sent him, his doctorate, his wild theories on quantum mechanics, and his modeling contract, packing.
Once home, Snake formed a ruthlessly well run business called Diesel Dogs. He almost exclusively hired dangerous men and women, who previously had made their living with guns in their hands, viciously spreading freedom and democracy to other parts of the world. Now this band of miscreants, led by Snake, spread their near anarchy across the region by repairing big rigs for profit during the day and repairing and distributing bicycles to orphans for kicks, until it got dark.
Yet, despite all this, women were irresistibly drawn to Snake. The female mind is an inscrutable and complex organism, and we may never understand it. Why are women always drawn to the rebel?