Stupid bloggists and the hate they spew.

In my wife's eyes, my reading habits are rueful and downright embarrassing. I should be ashamed.

Evidently, when I read, I am much like the mime pretending to be in a barbershop quartet: sad, pointless and loathsome to the point of wanting to strangulate me until my neck oozes a smooth, cream filling.

Before I continue, you should know that my wife is an extreme reader.  When I say this, I don't mean that she reads while bungee jumping off frozen bridges or while diving with malaria infested octopuses.  I simply mean that she reads an extreme amount, which is to say, almost nonstop.  I do not doubt that she is reading in her sleep; instead of dreams, words flash down her mind like the opening credits of a Star Wars movie.

Generally speaking, my wife loves books of the classiest nature; she only reads romance novels in which the man on the cover has buttoned at least three buttons of his shirt.  She despises a cover with any sign of a nipple or a book with the word "highlands" or "scoundrel" in the title.

Check out the title of this baby!

Of course, I tease. The truth is that my wife has no interest in romance novels at all.  She likes mysteries and dramas: tense, overwrought yarns that almost always involve a bloody murder scene and a grizzled, bearded cop.  Occasionally she will get her hands on a fictional comedy or a forlorn novel and be somewhat satisfied.  But her favorites are the murder mysteries and she reads close to 15 of them per month.

While my wife reads, my "reading" consists of both blogging and reading blogs.  In fact, I read blogs at such an incredible rate, I have reached the professional ranks of blog hopping, a feat that only the late, great Maria Shriver and Kristina Pulsipher can claim.  I have become so good, in fact, that I have been awarded one of those giant, luxurious, golden champion belts, like the steroid wrestlers wear.  I will sometimes sling it over my shoulder and pounce around my living room while wearing some orange bicycle unitards. 

I can spend up to three hours blog hopping and still not catch up on all the blogs I follow.  It's like The Neverending Story, but without the flying dog dragon or the racing snail.  I take that back.  I should rephrase: It's like The Neverending Story, but with only the occasional flying dog dragon and the racing snail.  I read blogs while my wife reads her books and while our kids are... who the heck knows or cares, we are READING HERE! 

Now, I know what you are thinking: all of this reading, it is liberating for the mind and soul, right?  Well, yes and no.  Yes for my wife, no for me.  You see, our arguments on this matter usually evolve like this:

(Beloved) Wife: Will you get off the computer?  You have been on there for hours!

(Unbeloved) Me: I'm just writing my blog post. 

(Slightly agitated, but still beloved) Wife: Well, you should get off the computer.

(The dumbest thing a husband could say) Me: Well, you read all day.  Why don't you put down your book? What is the difference?

(More than slightly agitated) Wife: It's not the same and you know it.

(Continually bone-headedly making things worse) Me: What do you mean?  You turn pages and I read off a screen.  Reading is reading.

(Now beyond furious) Wife: Whatever.  Would you just put the STUPID computer away?

I put the computer away.  I believe that it was the right thing to do at the time.  Looking back, I think it was a wise move.

ANYWAY, apparently there is an unspoken, unwritten hierarchy of reading material.  Just off the top of my head, I believe it looks something like this:

BRILLIANT PEOPLE THAT HATE WASTING TIME READING READ:
Books rooted in the sciences
Text books
Books about making money
Murder mysteries

AVERAGE PEOPLE THAT WASTE A LITTLE TIME READING READ:
Harry Potter books
Printed newspapers
Women's magazines
eBooks

MORONS THAT WASTE A LOT OF TIME READING READ:
Those "for Dummies" books.
Sports magazines
Blogs

Don't be offended folks, for I - your brave blogging hero - shall not stand for such injustice.  Reading blogs counts as reading - REAL READING!  Writing blogs should give me MORE credit than reading books.  Writing one blog post is like reading three books. (Albeit, not good books if you are writing the Blog O' Cheese.)

Of course, I know I am preaching to the choir here; the choir that blogs instead of sings.  I'm sure that if I were to go into the library and yell to all my wife's uppity, conceited book friends, "COME ON PEOPLE, PUT DOWN YOUR BOOKS AND PICK UP A BLOG!", they would boo me out of the place and it would be the third time I would have to be physically removed from a pubic library.

My best friends.

I guess what I am trying to say is that you and I (blogging buddies) both know that blogging COUNTS!  It's just that there are just some bloggist folks out there that try and keep bloggers and their readers down by banging us over the head with their hardbounds and paperbacks. (Preferably paperbacks.)  To these folks (including my wife) I say, "Come, join us in the blogosphere and... ride the high places!"

Can I get an AMEN?!

Now where my kids at?!