I have a brief statement and then I'll take your questions.

Today I am vividly imagining myself to be a very important president of a web site -- so I'll thank you to address me as such and to, as it were, defer to me accordingly. Fair enough?

Remember: He Tarzan, She Jane, and Me Big Important Corporate President. Got it?

(Isn't imagination swell, by the way, gang? Kudos to whoever came up with the idea -- it's genius: pure genius!)


Fire when ready -- always remembering that you're probably a trifle nervous out there, what with me being simultaneously so big and so important up here like this.

Yes, you, sir, trembling in all-too-appropriate and justified fear. Your question?

W-w-will you be updating this web site in 2008?

Of course, chump. (Such questions!)

Y-y-yes, but... If so, how so?

Oh, smart aleck, eh? That's for me to know and for you to find out. Next question. (Humph!)

Yes, there are those who say that you are a complete and (quote-unquote) abject failure as a webmaster -- nay, as a human being, even, and that few if anybody out there (or even IN there) loves you. Would you care to address those probably chilling charges? I have them written down here for your mortification -- er, I mean for your convenience, of course!

I have not yet had time to view the document you mention, so I'd better withhold comment for now, other than to say aaaaaa aaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaA aaaaaaaaaA!

I will add, as a general rule however, that almost no living entity -- by definition -- i.e. a living entity CUM living entity -- can logically consider itself to be a complete zero (or at least cannot logically INFORM us of that fact in any coherent and premeditated fashion) insofar as the rubber stamping of that proposition on his or her part would render the act of refutation, from their point of view at least, a logically wasted effort (why should a thoroughgoing loser, they can't help wondering, even bother to open his or her thoroughgoing mouth for any purpose whatsoever, much less in the shameful vindication of such a pejorative inference?), thus violating (in principle, anyway) the second law of thermodynamics.

Um, could you repeat that, please?

Not a chance. Next question, please.

Your web site, sir --

Yes, what about it? Come on: out with it. Chop-freakin'-chop, already!

Well, pardon me, but... doggone it, where is all the great traffic that you had hoped to achieve by now? Where is that great ranch in the mountains that you had hoped to inhabit at this late date? Where the Ferrari? Where the plane tickets to Jamaica? Whither flown the buds of yesteryear's apparently all too feeble hopes? Tsk-tsk-tsk, sir! O tsk-tsk-tsk, even!

"Whither flown the buds"? Blimey. Well, first of all, when I first started irritating people, mosquito like, with my online buzzing 10 years ago... Perhaps you remember?

Ah, yes: you were essentially like: "BUZZ BUZZ, gang! BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ!" To which the world, I might add, was unanimously like: WHATEVER.

Quite. Anyway, I originally only imagined myself to be a normal guy who knew French, right?

Right.

Well, of course, that was my first mistake: Pillory me for idiocy, whip me for indolence, even stab me repeatedly with the nethermost-tip of a butcher's knife in a bid to make me congnizant of my supposed insufferable pretension! (when in reality, of course, I'm just pretending to PRETEND to be pretentious!) But never -- NEVER -- call me 'normal.'

The point being?

The point being (dope! silly billy! jacka-- jack donkey!) that TODAY, humph.... why, today, I know myself to be the president of a big important company, thank you very, very much, indeed -- and by next year, I wouldn't be surprised if I was president of a very well-known country, too, beginning with the letters "THE."

What? In your imagination, you mean?

Where else? Where it counts, of course.

I see: And do airlines and hotels and restaurants accept your imaginary money that you earn by performing these imaginary jobs of yours?

Ouch. That hurt. Guards, seize him at once and thrash him with the wettest noodle currently available in all of imperial Rome!

WHAT?

You forget, sir, that although I may be poorly paid by my imaginary professions, I can yet imagine myself to be anybody I choose -- in proof of which, I give you Emperor Augustus, my latest persona -- complete with Praetorian Guard to enforce his imperious will!


Guards, away with him: and give him a thoroughgoing scolding, indeed! I'll not be toyed with like... like... some Roman toy!

Now then, where did Livia get to? I want my daily regimen of voluptuous kisses!

Sir, the search engines aren't convinced. The Googlebot, in particular, isn't buying your status as emperor of the Roman Republic -- er, Empire, sir!

Don't you mean "Empire SIR, sir?"

Yes, Empire SIR, sir -- sir!

What? They dare defy me, do they??!

Well, for starters, Google says that if you were really Augustus, there would be some mention of your adopted son Tiberius in these online ravings of yours --

Ravings???

Musings, sir -- SIR!

Tiberius! Why, bless me! I had forgotten all about the poor boy! My dear son! Oh, Tiberius! I just can't say that name enough, you know: Tiberius! Tiberius! Tiberius! Tiberius!

Careful, sir. If you say his name too frequently and in an arguably inappropriate context such as this one, the Googlebot might penalize you for spamming and/or blatant self-promotion.

Oh, phooey! This is no fun! I'm going back to being the humble (if so far distressingly ineffectual) president of Quass.com. Establishing an online presence as the first Emperor of Rome is too much like hard work!