The 250,000 Hits Club

Most people recall a handful of formative moments in their lives. You know: The first time you went to school; your first Nobel Peace Prize; your first realization that “Mork & Mindy” actually wasn’t very funny, despite the quasi-comedic antics of a hirsute young Robin Williams. That sort of thing.

Anyway, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” mention this because we have just experienced our own collective formative moment of sorts. That is to say, our humble “weblog” just reached 250,000 hits.

Now, to some eminences on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web, that’s no big deal. Glenn Reynolds, the Internet’s famed Instapundit, probably garners that many hits in a day or two. And he teaches as some God-forsaken satellite campus of the University of Tennessee.

Still, if you ask us, 250,000 is a pretty darned impressive landmark. Yeah, that’s right: We’re pretty darned popular according to our own (admittedly self-serving) account.

And this strikes us as particularly impressive, given the numerous hurdles we’ve have to overcome during our largely futile attempts at some nominal e-fame. First, we only “post” once a day—and that’s not the kind of Metamucil-like regularity that the typical impatient Web-stroller demands.

Further, we oft discuss immensely unpopular topics. On occasion, dear reader, we have a vague sense that can come across as a bit snooty. Our rants against such red-meat fare as country music and rock-n-roll sure don’t play well in the heartland. Except against the Dixie Chicks, of course. Those sell-out whores.

As if this weren’t enough, our “website’s” complete lack of pictures, graphics, or pleasing imagery of any sort seems well nigh designed to invoke e-anonymity. Add to that our use of the phrase “well nigh.” If that doesn’t make us about as popular as a novel by Ana Marie Cox (the Internet’s famed nose-picking Wonkette), we don’t know what will.

So, dear reader, we’re pleased as punch that—in a time span of under three years—we’ve managed to attract 250,000 hits. Even if a good 200,000 of them come from our parents, and another 40,000 or so stem from a frightening Internet stalker. Hey, that’s still pretty good in our collective books.

Accordingly, you can blithely expect more of the same from the crack young staff in the many moons to come. More studious avoidance of topical issues (and topical cream); more hackneyed attempts at clear-sighted argument; more Family Circus-esque humor—ah, just think of all the fun we’ll have!

We hope, then, that, in between gnashing your teeth over Chuck Hagel’s potential presidential bid, you’ll continue to check us out. Although we’re more likely to discuss Hegel than Hagel (and though we’re more inclined to vote for the former, even though he’s already dead—and German), we truly appreciate your flipping back here from time to time.

As the folks form Bartles & James, following the lead of many teen-aged girls talking to their training bras, once said, we thank you for your support.