The Ugly American Speaks

I am unabashedly American. Not in a jingoistic, patriotic sense, but in the stereotypical manner. I am overfed and under-exercised. I have too many TVs, computers and cars. I have too few…hmmmm….don’t think I have too few of anything because if there’s something I want, I go to the mall and buy it. My house is big and so is my ass.

But unlike most Americans, I have traveled quite a bit. Granted, the majority of my international travel has been to Europe, which is easy. However, a trip to Japan last year reminded me of what it really meant to be in a foreign land. In Europe I can fake it—thanks to a few years of Latin topped off by several semesters of French, I can decipher most anything in a romance language. But in Japan, I couldn’t even tell you the name of my hotel. It was daunting.

Aside from a few places in Africa, I can’t imagine a place more foreign than India. What I know of India comes from Kipling, Ghandi and Eat, Pray, Love. It’s not a place that’s high on my wish list of vacation spots. But then neither is North Dakota.

All that brings me to Kavitha Murali and her blog, Namesake. Please, for the love of Ganesha, why do I have the blog of a young Indian woman to review? Kavitha, you seem like a perfectly lovely young woman. You seem to have an energetic mind. So here’s a thought—why not open up the eastern branch of AAYSR? You could be queen of the realm and then all the Indian bloggers could be reviewed by their peers. I think the franchise price is low.

Because, dear Kavitha, as nice as you seem, I just don’t give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut hole about your blog. Equally, why do you give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut hole about my opinion about your blog? When you submit here, you roll the dice on which reviewer you get.

I’m sorry, but you got me. A small-town Southerner. About as far away from you as I am from the moon.

Your writing is fine. Like 90% of our submitters, you need to edit. When you write a post, check your word count. Then decrease it by 100. I promise you’ll have a better blog.

White type on a black background should be illegal as far as I’m concerned.

It’s the content that’s the problem. I read blogs from around the world. Good bloggers are storytellers. They grab my attention from the first sentence and keep it until the last. Dear Kavitha, you did neither.

Mundane. Mediocre. Middle of the road.

But, like I said: why do you care? Why do so many of your countrymen submit here? This is not a rhetorical question—I really want to know.

If your blog makes you happy, keep on writing.

In the meantime, I bestow a








I don’t hate you. I don’t love you. I just don’t care.

A Tale Of Two Blogs

A review by Here In Franklin

If you go back to Jane’s very first post, from December 2008, here’s what you get:

"Have been super busy over the past couple of months painting new Christmas ornaments for our internet store. Since I wanted to paint something different to add to our collection, I researched the Pennsylvania Dutch folk art designs that my daughter and I saw on the barns and storefronts when we visited the area a couple of years ago."

A few days later, the next post offered up this little gem:

"Since I'm a self taught decorative artist, I began researching glass painting and soon discovered that I needed all new paints and all new brushes."

Holy mother of God— Madame Bellicose, she hates me. She gave me a blog about glass painting to review written by a 68-year-old woman in Bum Fuck, North Carolina. Jesus palomino.

I don’t give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut hole about glass painting, but Jane’s writing wasn’t bad, so I kept on reading. I read memes and read about all of Jane’s super awesome awards—to date I count 20 on her sidebar including one from Sniffles and Smiles, one from Mom and Pops Place and one from the Chatty Crone. Jane—trust me on this—the only award you want is an IFLY. Ditch that crap—they’re not worth the pixels they’re made with.

So on I read…studio blah blah blah…cats blah blah blah…baggy of pot in the mail blah blah blah…

Whoa…from memes and awards to pot in the mail…and not just in the mail, delivered to your bosses office? Tell me more.

That’s when I realized that if you’re 68 in 2010, you were 26 in 1968—the summer of love. Our glass-painting grandma has quite a past up her sleeve. Trouble is, you have to dig to find it.

Jane, you’ve traveled the world, dated some interesting men, worked for a KKK lawyer and partied with sheiks. You shared the same outhouse with a rattlesnake. For the love of God, why are you writing about glass painting? You even fell down a sewer hole—don’t you realize how lucky you are??? That’s blogger gold.

Here’s the deal…I don’t know if you want your blog to be a memoir of your wicked youth or more of an outlet for your online store, but you should decide. At the minimum, figure out a way to categorize your posts—don’t make me dig through five posts in a row of memes and awards to find a gem. Separate them out—“home renovation,” “life abroad” and “peeing with snakes” for example.

Then, and this is the big one…beef up your storytelling skills. You’re Southern…you have it in you. Don’t just tell me you ate a sheep’s brain…tell me where and when and why. Don’t just tell me it was disgusting, describe the texture…tell me if ketchup or mayo would’ve improved it. Tell me if you barfed later or just discreetly coughed it into your napkin.

You have a lifetime of stories to tell, Jane. I’m guessing there are a lot of people out there who would enjoy reading them.

I’m giving you two stars. Lose the memes and awards and bring some order out of chaos and you’ll be upgraded.

Don't jump, this is the shallow end

Hello, it’s 11 degrees Here In Franklin and they're predicting two inches of snow on Thursday. That's a virtual blizzard in these parts. I need to get this done so I can run to Publix before they run out of Sierra Nevada and Tender Vittles.

According to Wikipedia there are 1.17 billion people living in India. There are more than 2,000 ethnic groups who speak 29 different languages. And don’t even get me started on how many types of curry there are.

Point is, you’d be hard pressed to find a more diverse environment and multi-layered culture than India’s.

So why does eM sound exactly like every other 28-year-old American I know? Maybe because she lists her three favorite movies as Reality Bites, Girl Interrupted and Dirty Dancing. Aside from the very occasional Indian reference, this blog could be authored by any upscale wasp living in Dallas or Cleveland or Sacramento.

But that’s not to say that it isn’t well written, because it is.

eM is the blogname of Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, who, I suspect, is quite famous in India in a chick lit sort of way. She published a book last year and is working on another. She was interviewed on NPR last October for a story featuring popular blogs around the world. She comes by her writing chops naturally—her father is a well-known writer and her mother is an editor.

However, it's eM's blog that's our concern today, not her family tree.

eM’s writing is clear and grammatically correct. She started blogging in 2004 when she was only 22. In those early days she wrote sweetly about growing up, boy friends, her work as a journalist and drinking and smoking with her friends. There was more of the same in 2005 … and 2006 … and 2007 … and by now you get the picture.

There just isn’t a lot of growth. Compare these birthday posts which are years apart.

Am now the grand old age of twenty-three.
Wow.
Twenty three isn't that old in the larger scheme of things, I'm sure some of you, who have passed that mark will look upon me as a mere fledgling. But still, it's the oldest I've ever been, in that, this year I actually feel my age. All these years, I've felt younger than I actually am. But now I'm 23, I feel 23, even if I may not look it. Kinda sad actually, because I would love to revert to 19 or something. At an age where I can still look around and say, "Where are all the grown-ups?" That's not happening anymore, coz, ohmygod, I am a grown-up. *scary*

And this:

If you know me, then you know my birthday is possibly the HUGEST DEAL IN THE WORLD to me. It's true. In the past, I began talking about it in like August, because I was so excited and now, I'm not much better, though I have managed to hold off till at least November before I make plans. People are amused, because, well, at 28, you expect someone to take a chill pill already about turning a year older, but it's so exciting! And it's a day all about meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! And more meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! How can you not love that?

So here’s the deal, eM —- I can’t take you to task about your writing. But can we talk about content? Honestly, can we have a little less meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and a little more youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu? I realize that you’re catering to a certain audience…keeping up a certain persona. But the only word that comes to mind is shallow. You’re 28 now—old enough to notice the world around you.

You have a voice. You have an audience. You have a platform. Maybe once every few months you could write about something other than yourself.

For your writing skill, I give you



For your complete self-absorption, I give you



And if every single Paris Hilton wannabe in Mumbai hates me, so be it.

Is That the Lotus Position or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

It is with great trepidation that I, your gentle author of Here in Franklin, dip my toe into the roiling waters of Ask and Ye Shall Receive. When Madame Bellicose beckons, I have no choice but to follow.

Around here, on the buckle of the Bible Belt, we don’t get much exposure to Buddhism. Heck, I’m Episcopalian and even that is viewed as somewhat exotic in the land of Baptists. However, before Thanksgiving, I spent a week in Japan and got a first-hand look at some sacred Buddhist shrines. I saw giant gold Buddhas, little tabletop Buddhas, Buddhas of every shape and size. I think I even drank a Buddha beer.

So when I was asked to review One Zen Mom, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own recent travels. Surely this was meant to be. Buddha=zen, right?

Perhaps.

To begin, I remember a time when I divided the world into people who thought Monty Python was funny and those who didn’t. These days, I tend to divide the world into WordPress vs. Blogger. As a WordPress devotee, I just find almost all Blogger sites cluttered beyond belief. Unlike my office desk or kitchen counter, I like my blogs clutter- free. Give me the basics—an About Me section, a Best Of option and Archives. Please, for the love of Buddha, get rid of the buttons, badges, ads and autoplayers. Unless you’re Dooce, you’re not making enough money to keep me in my daily large Diet Coke with lime from Sonic. Plus, even with my super fast connection, it takes your site ages to load and scrolling is clunky and slow.

Second, learn the difference between a hypen (-) and an em dash (—). They are not interchangeable. If Blogger won’t give you an em dash, at least use two hyphens with NO SPACES between the words on either side. Yes, I realize that this is slightly OCD, but it really distracts from your words.

I did not read every single entry, but Zen Mom gets mad props for blogging regularly. Some fall into the mommyblog realm, some are pleasant enough recountings of weekend activities, (although I must say that “to die for” meals are hardly ever served on paper plates) and some are just really, really good.

And here’s what’s interesting, Zen Mom knows when she’s hit a home run. She has a list of entries she would save if her blog was on fire. Almost every one of them is golden. Especially this and this.

You know when you do it right, Zen Mom. Remember that when you post something like this—you have a nice voice and style, you don’t need gimmicks. Sharpen your focus. Think about your audience. Lose the hyphens.

There’s some really nice writing here that earns you:





But, for your fugly template and badge-orama, I give you:

Minus:





Net result:





And thank you for shopping at AAYSR.