Thursday, February 25, 2016

What a long strange trip it's been

Spoiler Alert: If you're thinking this posting is going to be about Quinton Tarantino's latest movie you're going to be disapppointed. I haven't seen the film, but knowing his body of work I'm going to assume there is plenty of gunplay, oozing blood, and unfulfilled wishes of revenge blissfully and cinematically fulfilled.

If only that were allowed in advertising.

No, I borrowed the title type treatment because we here at RoundSeventeen corporate headquarters are about to celebrate a milestone and head into our 8th full year of meaningless, not-for-profit, self publication.

I started this blog on a whim, not knowing what or where it would lead to. This has been my modus operandi for as long as I can remember.

My daily email correspondence with Nigerian scammers began the same way.

My constant jabbing at the jowly juvenile in Pyongyang, also the same.

And my collection of "fictionalized" short stories about advertising, ditto.

The truth is, I'm constantly looking for new creative venues to express myself. Perhaps one day I'll publish my assemblage of Gaelic Love Poems written from the perspective of a heartbroken, 23-year old Glasgowegian butter churner.

You might be wondering, as I often do on Saturday morning's when I'm staring at a blank page, what more could Siegel possibly talk about?

Truth be told I ran out of fresh way back in 2013. So I just keep deconstructing and rehashing the same material over and over again.

Why? Because believe it or not, this blog keeps me semi-gainfully employed. With it, I am in front of the faces of the people who need writers every day. I'm on their radar. And as others will attest, apart from its therapeutic qualities, writing a blog also allows me to keep writing out invoices.

But here's the deal.

This highly unprofitable blog will cease to exist when I no longer have to descend into the advertising trenches to foot the bills. That will probably be the day my youngest daughter graduates from college. Or Elon Musk runs his Hyperloop train over the 10 scrubby acres of land I own in Panamint Springs, CA.

Whichever comes first.

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