Bumps and depressions and ridges, oh my.

Once upon a time, for about three months, blogging was way cool. In those halcyon days before Facebook and Twitter, we would be drawn like moths to a light to witness firsthand the tragedy of life bared full on the pages of the Internet in the blogs of The Acidman and Bane. Big Dick entertained us with his Fatty Friday and the DuToits educated us. The cool kids told us tales of blog meets and we lived vicariously through the posted stories and tales of blogging buddies throughout the world.

Some of us lesser men and women looked around and told ourselves we could do that too, most with limited success. As many blogs dried and died as were launched, it seemed. Because we listened to Rob Smith when he told each of us to post every day. no matter what, we were often abandoned by the Muses, left staring at the evil cursor as it blinked its mocking  beacon of failure on the computer screen.

Most bloggers resorted to the standby post. When all else failed, there was always a meme floating around. The me me was a survey, a list of questions that helped us learn our personality.  Which character were we in a Charlotte Bronte novel -- the meme would tell us. Which sporting event best matched our personality -- the meme knows. Are you conservative, liberal, a shrub or tree, what breed of dog suits your personality, what fish would you like to be? Are you a handgun or a rifle, a shoe or boot, a yeast or jelly donut? The meme told us what we were dying to know.

Alas, the me me fad died one winter night in 2007. At least I hope so. But now I am lost. I need constant reassuring. Who am I? What do I believe? What are my strengths and weaknesses? I could spend a lot of money and time going to a trained professional analyst. I could spend Friday afternoons with my shrink. But that could take years and untold treasure to determine. I need an interwebz shortcut.

I have hit upon another plan. While washing my hair it occurred to me I have a bunch of ridges and bumps on my skull. In olden days each of these bumps and depressions told the astute practitioner of phrenology all he needed to know about my personality. While modern science has debunked the usefulness of cranium measurement and study, I am mollified by the knowledge that some scientists think AlGore knows something about weather.  Supposed smart people gave The Obama a Nobel Prize.

So I call upon you, remnants of the Blog World. Go to your library, find hidden in the musty stacks the tomes regarding phrenology and the study of the human brain. Educate yourselves, post a map of your cranium for all to see.  Expose for the world the scope of your benevolent organ, your combativeness, your ideality.

Skateboards and hula hoops made a comeback. Miniskirts and beards have come and gone from the fashion scene. It is time to revitalize the pseudosciences. I vote for phrenology.

Are you with me? Plus, I am a little concerned this ridge along the top of my skull means I was born to a life of chronic masturbation, or useless blogging. I have to know.