Whoopee! Okay, that’s enough of that.
Seriously, I think diversity sucks. If everyone were just like me, this would be a much more copasetic planet. But, as we know, there are close to 7 trillion non-Yolas infesting this world of mine, and eradication would be difficult at best. So...
If you can’t kill ‘em, celebrate ‘em – that’s what I always say.
Case in point: My ragtag group of Followers. Most of you have wisely hidden your identities behind pseudonyms and spurious images. If I felt the urge to get out my little hatchet and pay you a visit, I wouldn’t know where to start (except for Barbie, of course, and she was nice enough to send those private photos). So, since I have nothing else to do this Saturday morning, I might as well celebrate you.
That this not-so-humble blog has managed to corral such a diverse group of misfits and malcontents in such a short time is, I suppose, a remarkable achievement. I mean, just look at this bunch:
We have a guy who wears old toaster parts on his head and wants to take over the world. We have a talking cat, for god’s sake, and a three-headed dog who rides the bus five days a week to Hell and back. There’s a little girl with temporary tattoos who dreams of dirty dancing. There’s a close-mouthed dude who looks like a cross between the Marlboro Man and an NRA poster. There’s a one-legged ass-kicker. There’s a hornball barfly who does amazing things (trust me) with that Viking hat of hers. There’s a lady whose head is twice the size of everyone elses' (where does she buy hats?). We have a great, great, multi-great grandniece of a headless corpse.We have two confirmed dead.
And we’ve had a couple of distinguished visitors. Angelina Jolie, you’ll recall, stopped by to threaten us with lawyers, and a famous real-life mystery author (and military man?) has favored us with a pithy remark or two. All this, and we’ve only been on the Cybernet, I mean Internet, three weeks. Who knows how low we can go?
Let’s find out. That’s your assignment for the weekend. Tell us, if you will, what other sorts of oddballs, celebs, dead folk and four-legged beasties we should attempt to lure into the fold.
Remember that motto – If you can’t kill ‘em, celebrate ‘em – but keep it under your hat. I’m registering the phrase and will soon have T-shirts available in the Yola Shop.
(Apologies to those of you expecting to hear from Davy Crockett today. He weaseled out on account of being dead, but I’ll keep after him.)