Thursday, December 17, 2009

Coming out of my shell

"Stay clam."
Ivar Haglund, (owner of Ivar's Acres of Clams restaurant,

As I monitor my blog stats, the limited number of people I note wandering in through various search engines seem to be fixated on the topic of whether clams are really happy (Dizgraceland, August 2006). This confirms my theory that most people would prefer to dive into a river looking for deep thoughts than search the ocean.

Not that I profess to be a purveyor of deep thoughts. I ,after all, wrote the post questioning whether clams were really happy. It stemmed more from my own curiosity as to where the saying came from than a intellectual thirst to know how clams really felt

I am baffled, however, why of the close to 800 posts I've written, that one gets the most hits. As mildly amusing as it is, it isn't even one of my favorites. I thought my post about whale puke was more meaty. But trying to explain human behavior on the Web is nearly impossible. Actually trying to explain human behavior is nearly impossible anywhere.

It's not like I'm slamming out much new stuff these days anyway. So I should be grateful a few tortured souls are finding solace in diatribes about mollusks emotions. It is better than them being glued to the set watching Dancing with the Stars to see which washed up celebrity will twist an ankle.

Lately, I just haven't felt like sharing my profound thoughts. I'm just keeping my profundity to myself and chuckling to myself an my own inner enlightenment.

The problem is when I do write these days I catch myself regurgitating old material (not unlike ambergris) and not even realizing it. Or I try to recapture the glory and write the same stuff but mix it up a little to fool myself into thinking it is new (like perhaps a post called, "Are mussels really strong" or "Are crabs really grumpy?"

BTW, speaking of grumpy, my daughter thinks the seven dwarves are called the "Hi-Hos" because that is the song I sing when I get to that part of the Snow White and Seven Dwarves story. When my son is being cranky she says, "Stop being a hi-ho, Ronin." His name is Roan, but she can't pronounce it, so she calls him Ronin, or Prince Dude.

But I digress on my digression. That is a new low for me. A double digression. And technically this is a digression on my digression about a digression. So it is a whopping triple digression!

Oh well. See why I keep my profoundness to myself these days?