June 10, 2004
The Haunting Question We, the
The Haunting Question
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” routinely receive a barrage of e-mails from winsome fans. Oftentimes, such devotees of our humble “weblog” laud us to the skies. How, they query, can the staff produce some of the most insightful and delightful comedy since “Cannonball Run II”?Yet a few readers, although entirely well intentioned, ask what must be the most frightening question to routine “webloggers” such as ourselves. No, not “What if Dennis Kucinich becomes President,” or even “Aren’t your pants on fire.” We’re talking really terrifying.
Normally, the query is dropped into an otherwise pleasant missive as follows:
I’m a rodeo clown and long-time fan of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” You guys are the greatest. I am naming my first-born son “Crack” in part after you. But I do have one question: Are you guys ever going to run out of ideas?
Ah, yes: The “Are you guys ever going to run out of ideas” question. It’s really brutal. Normally, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” reply to this interrogation with a query of our own: Has Jim Davis, the creator of “Garfield,” ever run out of ideas?
Okay, maybe that isn’t such a good example. The short answer to this query, which stands at only 4’3”, is: Yes. Of course we are going to run out of material. In fact, the very appearance of the posting you are reading, with its meta-blogging substance, may be proof positive that we have already run out of ideas.
Indeed, just like Ralph Ellison, perhaps we only have one good book in us. Or, in our case, around sixty posts.
In fact, all this talk of writer’s block made us wonder: What will happen when we haven’t any ideas left, but we continue to milk “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” cash cow that it is? Will it be anything like “The Godfather Part III”? No, probably not: We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” may have plenty of foibles, but we don’t overact like Al Pacino.
Still, we are left with an important question: What will happen when our zany, madcap genius dries up and we are merely punching the comedic clock?
Perhaps our postings will cease to possess a unifying theme, but instead will contain desultory gags—some of them quite tepid. This, naturally, will lead to an even more painful period, when we no longer supply our colossal readership with jokes at all, but proffer uninspired musings instead.
In fact, such postings might look a little like this:
A Hypothetical Posting of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Once the Crack Young Staff Has Entirely Run Out of Yuks:
Man, Michael Moore is really plump.
Although staple guns seem like a really good invention, their use can prove fraught with danger.
Of all the words in the English language, none is as fun to pronounce as “forklift.”
Michael Moore sure doesn’t eat like he’s a Marxist.
We don’t care what you say: Black licorice is simply revolting. And, no, we’re not attempting any metaphorical social commentary.
“Speed-o” bathing suits tend to look really bad on men.
If Gary Coleman and Emmanuel Lewis got in a fight, we’d pick Gary Coleman to win. After all, he’s had to deal with far more personal hardship.
Michael Moor is so portly.
Well, dear reader, there you have it: An installment of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” as it may look when we, the crack young staff, entirely dry up. We suppose it’s not so shoddy: Truth be told, Michael Moore is pretty hefty.
