Where Are My Adoring Fans?

One thing I've noticed lately is that no one reads this blog. That's right, gentle reader, you are no one. If I were in a less surly mood, I would admit that you are indeed a person. I would even say that you're one of the few people I like because you read all the pointless things I have to say. But at the moment none of that is true because I am surly and you are nobody.

There was a time when I was famous. No one remembers that time anymore because they're all dead or working corporate jobs or both. The people who claim to remember that time actually only remember the 80s syndication of my show and the more-or-less ironic adulation that followed. I certainly appreciate adulation, though, ironic or not.

But now we have the 2000s. The cold, dark present. And no one pays attention to a 40-some-year-old dolphin anymore. Not even one who spent three glorious seasons doing tricks and catching smugglers on national television. The aftermath of fame is bitter, but it's much more bitter once you've been unfamous for over twenty years. By then people don't just not want your autograph or not want to go swimming with you; they forget you have an autograph to give, and they forget that you can swim. They forget that you exist.

If you even read this far, I don't want you to pity me for my loneliness. It's not that bad. I actually made up most of that pathetic-sounding stuff. I just really want more people to read this blog. I mean seriously. I'm a famous washed-up dolphin here, and I'm writing a blog. What else does it take?