One Thousand 5/19/22

Milestones with Richard Bleil

WordPress tracks “streaks” of how many days in a row one posts, and I just crossed one thousand.  Actually, I’ve posted closer to 1,265 (a little more) as my first post was on November 29, 2018.  However, WordPress defines a day as starting at about 3 AM (DST) here in Omaha, which I’m assuming corresponds to midnight on the west coast, but some of those days I posted too early, or too late, and WordPress counted those as posted as the same day as others if this run-on sentence is making any sense.  Still, it’s a helluva streak, and since I always have at least 750 words in each post, that’s 750,000 words that I’ve written (948,750 words minimum if you count 1,265 posts).  If you’ve not read them all, I don’t blame you.  War and Peace only had 587,287 words, so reading them all would be like reading War and Peace 1.3 times (or more than one and a half times if you go with 1,265 posts) assuming I never write more than 750 words, which I almost always do. 

The reality is that I’ve written so many posts that I myself forget what I’ve written.  If you ever read one of my posts and get that déjà vu feeling, it’s not you.  I’ve probably written on the topic in the past, but even when I do, it’s still a unique post.  I have not reposted any of my work, so it’s all unique. 

I’ve written on politics, science, medicine, and I’ve presented you with short stories, humor, and posts on depression.  The focus is all over the place, so if you want to read some of my work but not all of it, feel free to search out just those topics of interest to you (as if I could stop you from doing so).  I’ve often thought of stopping the blog, but at this point I’m kind of in a Mr. Bill mode.

Not all of my readers will be old enough to know Mr. Bill unlike the old codger writing these things.  I recommend looking it up for those who don’t know him.  Mr. Bill was a Claymation piece that was a regular occurrence on the original Saturday Night Live variety series (with the likes of Gilda Radner, Garrett Morris, John Belushi, Chevy Chase, Dan Akroyd and so many more).  Mr. Rodgers himself, made by clay, interacted with Mr. Hand, the hand of the animator (I assume).  Every episode, Mr. Rodgers would be utterly destroyed, crushed, burned, run over, all in a humorous fashion as if they didn’t realize it was going to happen (but Mr. Bill became wise to it towards the end saying, “no, he’s going to hurt me”).  In an interview with the creator of the series, he explained that they keep talking about actually killing off Mr. Bill, but, he explained, after all he has been through, how would you even go about doing that?  So, Mr. Bill just went on and on, much as I do with this blog.

But, like the Mr. Bill series of shorts, I do hope that my readers are still enjoying my work.  Sometimes I can be almost a month ahead in my post queue, and sometimes, like today, only a day or two.  This will be scheduled to post two days after I upload it.  And I’ve never had a ton of readers (I’m certainly not viral), but I know I have some regular readers, and I want you to know that I see you, and I appreciate you.  Many thanks to my regular readers, and if this is your very first, and last, time on Bleil Banter, I appreciate you, too.  Thank you for stopping by.

The goal of Bleil Banter has always been, and remains today, to be open and honest about my life, my opinions, and my humor that not everybody appreciates.  Trust me, I know.  All too often, people go through things (like my new friend Jeff who just had a heart attack), and if they’re like me, they feel alone, as if they are the only ones facing these demons.  Hopefully, by talking about my own issues, I can help some people realize that they’re not alone, that they shouldn’t feel isolated, and that it’s honestly okay to be open, and honest, with their own stuff.  In the Red Green Show, Steve Smith would often say, “we’re all in this together”.  We truly are, and I see you.  I appreciate you.  And I’m here for you.  All I ask is that you be there for somebody else.

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