My computer was acting kinda wonky earlier in the day. For about an hour I couldn’t access Gmail through Firefox, yet it was working just fine in Internet Explorer. My FTP program was doing strange things as well, and I couldn’t get a picture to upload to the server.
Then everything was OK again… all at the same time. Who the hell knows? Maybe the internet needed to lie down on its side and engage its blowhole? That’s my technical analysis of the situation, anyway…
Hey, I hate to bring this up, but occasionally I’m going to ask you guys for money. Yes, it’s come to this. And today is one of those days.
Lots of sites offer premium sections that cost $5.95 per month for access, etc. And I’m not going to do anything like that. I’m just going to, you know, ask for a small contribution every once in a while. It goes against my nature, and my sphincter is winking as I type this, but something’s gotta give. It’s inevitable.
And what I’m talking about is… a second job for me. Which, of course, will dominate my days off, and seriously eat into writing time. I worry that the book won’t get finished, the site won’t be updated regularly, and everything will go circling down the ol’ crap catcher.
Oh, I don’t mind working. I’ve done it all my life, and still bust my ass every day. If you only knew… But I care about all this ridiculousness we’ve got going on here, as well. In fact, I’ve been accused of caring about it too much. Ahem.
So, anyway. There are three main ways you can support the Surf Report monetarily. They are:
Buy our t-shirts. I know I go on and on about it, but these things are pretty kick-ass and cheap… and everybody wins. I owe a few to folks right now, as a matter of fact, and will be making another post office run tomorrow. So, buy today, and it’ll go out tomorrow. Dat’s right.
Buy me a beer. This is basically a small monetary contribution, wrapped-up in an appealing beery theme. There are thousands of you guys reading this, and if half of you sent a buck or two every month, I could forget all the second job nonsense. Please consider buying me a beer today. The weekend is coming. And if you’d like to send some amount not on the beer page, my PayPal email is email@example.com
Buy all your Amazon stuff through our links. It costs you nothing extra, and I’ll get at least four percent of what you spend. There are Amazon ads all over TheWVSR, and if you click through any of them before shopping, I’ll get the commission. So please, don’t forget.
And that’s that. I really appreciate your support, and like I say… this goes counter to my nature. I hate this kind of stuff (it feels like an NPR telethon), but I’m gonna end up doing salad bar maintenance at Ruby Tuesday, working for a 22 year old “supervisor,” and probably landing in jail for the stabbing of a 22 year old “supervisor,” after he talks down to me about my cucumber-slicing technique, or whatever.
Good god… the downward spiral has begun.
I’m going to leave you now with something a little more uplifting: a Surf Report roll call.
We did this once before, and it was a lot of fun. In the comments section please tell us where you currently live, city and state, or city and country, whatever. And hopefully we’ll have representation from all fifty US states.
Last time, a year or so ago, I think we came up a Dakota short. I can’t remember if it was Norf or Souf Dakota, but I believe it was the only state without a Surf Reporter. Hopefully that’s no longer the case.
And I love to hear from you folks outside the country. In fact, it blows my mind a little.
Please don’t cheat, I’d like for this to be accurate info. And if you’d like to tell us how long you’ve been reading, how you discovered the site, etc. that’ll also be cool. Also, if someone wants to volunteer to keep track of the states, I won’t turn you down.
And there you go. I have an early meeting today at my job, so I need to sign off now, gobble down a Marlene Catheter frozen meal, and get the hell outta here.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you about something exciting that’s going to happen on Friday.
See ya then!
Now playing in the bunker