My name is Morgan and I will be blogging for you[1]. I am writing this blog because I hope to one day be on Saturday Night Live and I want to see if I can achieve a mediocre level of Internet fame first. This will be a blog about whatever I deign to write about. So if you have a problem with anything I write or you think I'm not funny or you think I'm ugly or you think I'm stupid or I offend you or you don't think I deserve to live or you think that I might be the mother of your children[2] or anything remotely related please, please, please don't tell me about it. Stop reading my blog, tell other people I suck, buy add space in the New York Times[3] denouncing my name, create a psychotic hate-wall of my face, get Google Alerts on me so you can cheer whenever I get slammed[4], but for the love of God don't email me about it[5]. I will just get mad at you. I barely know you and I don't want to have a negative opinion of you based on the Internet because, come on, it’s the Internet[6]. So, as the old adage goes, if you don’t have something nice to say, leave the blogger alone[7].
As previously stated, I want to be a writer or performer on SNL one day. Tina Fey is my idol[8]. I will try to write with good grammar but I'm from the area of the suburbs where it's cool to sound like you haven't been taught basic grammar rules, so imma[9] do what i do, diggit? I will also try to write accurately about whatever it is I write about, but I think I have undiagnosed ADHD so sometimes I'll just stop reading a source of information before I've really finished reading all the information. It's really a problem. Another potential problem with making my blog the sole source of your world news is that my only news sources are my local paper[10], Weekend Update, and The Daily Show with John Stewart. I guess sometimes Twitter, if you count Obama’s tweets as news[11]. If you do choose to read this blog I would very much encourage you to make it your sole source of information about anything, even clog dancing[12], because my words being your source of information would make me feel all powerful, which is a feeling I rarely feel as a 17 year old. I won't lie to you. Trust me.
Did that last sentence creep you out a little bit? I freaked myself out a little bit while writing it.
I think this blog is pretty coherent for being written at one in the morning, so imma call it a night.
Goodnight Internet. You give me wings.
[1] You can't tell because the internet doesn’t have a "Hesitation" button but I stared at my computer for at least 5 minutes before writing the phrase "for you".
[2] Stop calling, Martin.
[3] Or your local paper if you're cheap.
[4] It’s not the comedy rule of three but its close.
[5]snltorbust@aol.com
[6] There are many an embarrassing fan letters written by me out on the Internet and I wouldn’t want you to judge me based solely on those.
[7] This sentence used to say “If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the f%$# up” but I was told by my father and only loyal blog reader, that I wasn’t allowed to cuss until I was 18.
[8] Before you ask, no, it’s not healthy.
[9] My computer highlighted the word “Imma” as misspelled not because it isn’t a word, but because it wasn’t capitalized.
[10] “Suck it, I do read the paper!” Liz Lemon, Season 1 of 30 Rock.
[11] I follow Obama on Twitter along with Charlie Sheen and Chelsea Handler. I also consider their tweets news.
[12] If there’s one thing in this world I know about, its clog dancing.
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