I didn’t notice when episode 600 went on the air a few days back, and really, there’s no reason to get so excited about that. There is another milestone on the horizon, one that is, in my opinion, monumental.
Before too much longer, someone will post the 5,000th comment here at Muddled Ramblings and Half-Baked Ideas.
The number speaks for itself, but that’s not going to stop me from rambling on for a bit about it anyway. Five thousand comments doesn’t happen on very many blogs, I bet. Here I am very proud that the comments have become an extra layer of interaction and communication. There is a whole discourse going on there, influenced but in no way bound by the topics of the episodes. It makes this place lively and rewarding even when I’m not.
There are regulars and others just passing through, those who lurk and those who post often. There are personalities who exist nowhere but in the comments here; we even have an avatar of the collective. People have exchanged travel plans here, announced life changes, and in general added to the feeling that this is not MY site, but OUR site; the place where Squirrely Joe can hang with Funkmaster G-Force, and Keith can suggest ways to find women from my past.
So, while I’m proud of this site, and a little surprised at what it has become, the credit is not mine alone. Not even close.
Take a moment, why don’t you, and vote on what the prize should be for comment 5000. I’m a little hesitant about offering a prize – I imagine Jerk McSweede posting two hundred messages reading “Did I win yet?” – but we’ll see what happens. Just… play nice.
How about a bootleg “Pirates” DVD?
I’d second that.
Hell yeah!
I was going to suggest an autographed copy of your soon-to-be published story, but Bob clearly has the better suggestion.
We are negotiating with the bootleggers now…
The thing is, if I actually offer a prize of any value, how the hell am I going to unload the squirrel?
How about you get a webcam linked up to a bagel, that you eat. It’d be like the incredible journey. But a different.
I’d like to suggest finding the woman under the hood of the Mustang for the next “women from Jerry’s past” game. What city?
Kristi has no interest in what’s under the hood of my Mustang. And now that it’s no longer a V8, frankly neither do I.
Pyrates, matey, for we voyaged long and hard to bring the Black Ship to Terrorize the Desert Sea.
How do we know what number we are?
What if an egg fryer wants to say thanks for the info and becomes 5000?
What if Keith wins and he wants something stupid?
When will the voices in my head leave me alone?
I can get rid of the squirrel fer ya. But I’m gonna need seven small children for bait.
It’s not what Keith wants, it what the poll says. The voices will leave you alone on October 15th, 2009, for almost 25 minutes.
And… dammit! I can only come up with six children, and one of them isn’t that small.
Keith, it was pacific beach, and if you can find her, I owe you one.
Easy – make the 4999th person take the squirrel.
the Hotelsmobile full of pivo
I’d suggest a caricature of Jerry’s head overlayed on a happy face t-shirt. But you probably already have that.
I can’t believe no one in the bloggcomm leaped at the chance to comment on Keith having “less than a V8 under the hood,” and Kristi having “no interest” because of it.
where are some sharp-tongued pirates when ya need em.
You know, we really don’t want a bootlegged copy of Pirates — we want a pirated one!
That comment was actually a gift wrapped present addressed to Bob Forman, but I figured it would be interesting to see if F-G-F or Jerk McSweede would jump on it first.
No my friend. The squirrel stays with you. Don’t even think of looking in that mirror-mouth of gift horse. As for 5000, I vote for the chicken-milk bomb.
Happy C5K Day.
Was there ever an answer to Jes’s deeply philosophical question “How do we know what number we are?”
42? 1,000,006? Other?
You, Bob, were number 5,003 with that post, which makes pL Mr. C5k.
In retrospect I realize that I should have stuck with tradition and celebrated the first prime after 5k, which is in fact, 5003.
As it so happens, there are two prizes tied for first in the poll right now, so I will let you two decide who gets the first beer on me next time we hang out, and who gets to provide a story setup for me to write. As a special bonus, I think pL should give Bob a Pirate pirate when they’re ready.
Congratulations to both of you, and a big thanks to the rest of the blog community that has made this place a bastion of culture and and high-minded debate..
Oh! missed C5K by a teeny fraction.
I gotta kick out of Cheryl’s comment and put in a late vote for the geiger counter. But it makes me think, you know what the world really needs? Squirrel shaped geiger counters! Why carry around an instrument looking thing, when you could carry around a cheap plastic squirrel? Wave that thing around some Iranian desert locations, and you’d hear, “Sorry, it was a joke, we are opening up to the IAEA! Just keep that god-forsaken creature away from us!” quicker than you could say, “Security Council.”
I suspect pL has already claimed prize #1, having you buy the first beer. I’d be happy to pay for a Pirates DVD to help inflate the world wide revenue figures. That just leaves prize #2 – a story setup.
Hmm. Right away, I’m going to ask for help. The whole blog community contributed to 5K+ comments, so everyone is welcome to contribute to the setup. Please see the first draft, below, and post your suggestions.
The tall, thin man drove the International pickup as if someone’s life were at stake.
Everything about the truck said one of a kind. Upfront was an air horn designed by the thin man’s musician/inventor friend, Juan, to be audible (and repugnant) only to squirrels. The roof had been replaced with a convertible top which was now up due to the blinding snow storm. The storm didn’t bother (or perhaps didn’t register with) the exceptional dog drooling out the passenger window and onto the “Got Fuego?” sign painted on the door. Behind the rear wheels were playmate silhouette mud flaps, a gift from Heath, another friend. The rear bumper had the world’s longest bumper sticker: “I break for kung fu brew masters, ivory billed wood peckers, pervious MOHs and rock stackers.”
The cargo, which provided the vital ballast to keep the truck’s balding tires on the slick, twisting highway, consisted of four kegs of Guinness Stout and twenty fifty pound bags of peanuts – one of which was leaking nuts at a steady rate.
It was dark, and the thin man was wearing sunglasses.
In fact, pL is out of town and may not even know he’s MrC5K, but in the meantime I’ll mull over this setup. There’s a lot if details to work in, so it’ll probably be a fairly long piece of… um, literature.
I wanted to give you a setup that sounded like a recipe for a breakfast scramble because I’m confident you can make it turn out sunny side up.
I’ve got some ideas coming for that story. I still want to wait for pL’s participation, but we’ll see. If he doesn’t check in soon, I’m just going to start writing.
The first bit as it stands in my head right now:
The tall, thin man drove the International pickup as if someone’s life were at stake. “Elephants,” he muttered. “Why did it have to be elephants?”