If you're reading this, then you are either:

• A Soldier in The Army of Neopoleon.
• A Civilian Subject of My Kingdom.
• Neither, and, therefore, a commie scoundrel ass-rascal.

While I, benevolent insane mentally-screwed up King of the Universe that I am, have been generous enough to provide you the charity of my brilliance without taxation or charges for services rendered over the years, I do from time-to-time demand that you obey my will without question. It's certainly better than being put up against the wall and shot with all the other enemies of the state, now isn't it?

I said: NOW ISN'T IT?

Yes. It is. Glad we're all on the same page here.

I, as the world famous writer that I am (I have tens of readers) have, without my authorization, been entered in a who's-the-most-amazing-writer-in-the-universe contest. This contest is designed to reward one writer with the recognition that I deserve. I'm sure that the other writers are just fantastic, but I'm lying. I don't think they are, and I don't plan to lose this contest to a bunch of inferior candy-ass pansy loser bloggers who wouldn't know a good adjective if it came along and modified a noun RIGHT IN THEIR FACES.

This contest is sort of an Oscars for the independent web-based writer community (I hate the word "blog" - it's ugly, and it comes with what I'd consider many negative connotations ("I PUT JAM ON MY TOAST THIS MORNING! WOO! I'M OUTTA CONTROL! READ MY WEB PAGES FOR MORE INFORMATION ON IF I EAT JAM ON TOAST MORE OFTEN OR ONLY TODAY! WOO! IT'S PRETTY GOOD!")).

It's called "The Caffeinated Codey Awards" and it's aimed at independent web-based tech writers. I'm not a tech writer, but I'm so awesome that Russell included me in the contest anyway. He did, unfortunately, spell my last name as "Blythe" rather than "Blyth" - it's a careless mistake that I find hugely offensive. The "Blyth" family doesn't need an extraneous "e" tacked on to the end of our name. We think the mutant "Blythe" perversion of our bloodline is trying to compensate for something with that extra vowel. We think that thing is everything about them that makes them stupid.

Anyway, I'm in this contest, and that means I have to win. I've never won anything in my life.

Actually, there was a "GQ Award" for the best dressed male that was given to me at a team meeting in Dallas a few years ago. I don't count it, though, as a fashion showdown between me and most geeks can be summed up as "Prada vs. Ross Dress for Less" - it's not really a contest. Not that this contest is a contest. I mean, it is, but you know what I mean.

You have a mission. Your mission is to do your part. Doing your part is simple. Here's what you do:

1. Go to this page and vote for me. Make sure you click the proper button - it's a little confusing. The last thing we need here is for you to biff it.

2. Go to this other page and vote for me.

I know it might appear that I lack integrity by telling you to vote, but I do. I gave up integrity years ago when I found it got in the way of selling out.

Don't even bother reading about the other "competitors" - there's no point. They suck. You can take my word on that. I wouldn't lie to you as far as you know.

It's your moral obligation to vote. And, if you're part of the independent web-based writer community, then you should also put up a small post in which you talk about how much you want me to win this contest. If it makes you feel better about joining me on the Integrity is for Losers cruise ship, then you can link to the official contest page. It'll make it look like you think the other independent web-based writers have a chance.

You should provide the direct links to the two polls I gave you a few paragraphs back, along with the instructions to just: Vote Rory - Vote Neopoleon. It's simpler than encouraging your readers to research the other writers. People like simple. You know the iPod? It's simple. And people like it. But, unlike buying an iPod, selling your soul costs nothing. In fact, since you're "selling" it, you can expect all sorts o' happenin' remuneration. This is not a guarantee. The Neopoleon Company is not responsible if you're credulous enough to believe me about that remuneration thing. Get your head on straight.

Also, if you guys don't do this, I'll write a bunch of really long posts that are so interesting that you'll feel compelled to read them despite the intimidation imparted by so many words. You'll be a prisoner of my mental diarrhea. You'll lose your jobs. You'll disappear off the face of the Earth. You'll probably sit still for so long, reading and anticipating the next amazing and really long post, that you'll finally die from a pulmonary embolism. I'm indifferent, but you might care about not dying from this perfectly avoidable condition. It's very difficult to reverse, and you pretty much always kick the bucket, and it's usually brought about by sitting in one place without moving your legs for a really long time.

Your choice.

Vote or die.

Love,

- Rory

[Gratuitous Links to my Homies - Not Part of the Post Above] [Learn More]

We gots us another woman! Woo-hoo! For serious. Gotsing more women is good.

- Cindy Chiuchiolo: The Seize - Having just created an independent web-based writer's web site THAT DOESN'T ALLOW YOU TO COMMENT WITHOUT REGISTERING WHICH IS TOTALLY OK AND I DON'T MEAN TO DRAW ATTENTION TO IT JUST BECAUSE IT'S LAME, Cindy is making the posts. She comments here on the Neopoleon as "Celes". If you get all up in the comments, then you've probably seen her writing. She's nuts. Like Astrid. Not in the same way exactly, and about different subjects, but it's that fun, entertaining nuts that's fun and entertaining. Plus, a chick who writes about text adventures? I think so. Yes. I'll take two...