The Complete, Unexpurgated Histroy of the Blog, Part 6

This week, we present a short interview with Daisuke Minimoto (right), who is believed to have the world's largest holdings of Olaf Blogg ephemera.

We spoke to Mr. Minimoto on the phone while he was in his office in Yokosuka, Japan, where he runs his family robotics firm.

G100T...M: When did you first become interested in Olaf Blogg?

DM: Well, honestly, I never heard of him until recently.

G100T...M: (Laughs).

DM: I'm serious. I bought a collection of antique pornography at auction, and in the lot was this old book belonging to some Swede who had...how do you say it? "Diarrhea of the pen"?

G100T...M: Incredible. Do you know if that pornography was, in fact, Olaf Blogg's?

DM: I don't care who had it before me--its all mine now, know what I'm sayin'.

G100T...M: Remarkable. Do you have any message for admirers of Olaf Blogg?

DM: Not really. Do you like my tie?

G100T...M: It's lovely.

DM: I got it at a store in Ginza.

G100T...M: Truly fascinating. Thank you for your time.

DM: Don't mention it. It's not like I'm the one paying for the call.

Truly, a prince among men.

IN TWO WEEKS: This blog just might return!

The Complete, Unexpurgated history of the Blog, Part 5

By 1700, Olaf Blogg was down on his luck. The lint market had fizzled, thanks to improved garment washing techniques. Blogg's run of business troubles continued--a ill-fated investment in a used handkerchief scheme nearly bankrupted him. His journals were soon filled with moaning about his plight.

"My plight is so bad, I feel like moaning about it."

Such desperate words reveal the tortured agony of his soul. For months, he filled page after page with such entries, in between reports on how his day went, or tips on dating, or answers to little surveys he had been given.

Finally, in 1701, his luck turned around. Afflicted with a case of what he called "shopping fever," Blogg invested what little he had in a herring (above) farm. Soon afterwards, Sweden's top Lutheran bishop declared, for reasons known only to him, that "herring is the Lord's food, and to give it up for Lent would be a sin." Herring sales increased tenfold.

Overnight, Blogg became a wealthy man. In his journal, he wrote, "I've got kroners in my pocket, a new horse in the garage, and women at my door, day and night. Fo' shizzle, this is good." Scholars have debated the authenticity of that last remark.

With money no longer a problem, Blogg began to indulge his passions, especially for writing. Yet, somehow, he felt unfulfilled. "Why do I write all this, if no one can see it?" The more he thought, the more the idea crystallized in his mind. His new idea would change the world.

NEXT WEEK: Who knew they had bouncers back then?

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

"The Complete, Unexpurgated History of the Blog" is on hold until next week, as I'd like to address some important holiday issues.

Throughout the Christian world, yesterday was celebrated as Easter (except in Orthodox churches, where yesterday was "Those Western churches got Pascha wrong again?" day). For all the good name recognition Christmas has, Easter is Christianity's most holy day, commemorating Christ's rising from the dead, and the salvation of humanity.

All deeply, deeply important stuff. But the day after Easter provides its own reason to celebrate, a reason that may be even important: Cadbury's Creme Eggs can now be bought for cheap post-holiday prices.

If you're not familiar with said eggs, well, there's a picture of them above, posed on someone's tacky dinnerware. What needs to be said? They've got chocolate, creme filling--you do the math. If they were available year-round, the world's birth rates would fall dramatically. After all, no amount of sex can match the orgasmic delights of a creme egg.

You might ask, "tell me where these things come from?" I would then admonish you for your demanding tone, before relating the story of Frank Cadbury. In the 1920's, Frank, the youngest of the Cadbury heirs, busied himself in his amateur genetics studies. Frank wanted to combine his passion for science with his desire to fit into the family business. Defying all known laws of science, Frank successfully cross-bred chickens with cacao trees, and developed mutated chickens that laid chocolate eggs.

Despite the pleas of his friends and family, he then bred the chickens with rabbits, in the hopes of creating the perfect Easter snack. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams--and trust me, those dreams were pretty damn wild. Within a few years, once the worst of the birth defects were sorted out, the Cadbury Creme Egg was on store shelves.

The unholy beast which lays these eggs is a sort of rabbit which clucks like a chicken. "Why does that sound familiar?" you're asking. Because they put those things in the commercials, silly! The company has no shame about Frank playing God: indeed, to this day, research continues in the Cadbury Laboratories into ways to perfect their most lucrative creation. It's estimated that the Cadbury Schweppes company pumps over $3 billion each year into genetic research (as well as over $4 billion in arms manufacturing, but that's another story).

When Christ appeared before his apostles after His resurrection, was He holding a package filled with little chocolate creme eggs? I think we all know the answer.

*As it turns out, Eastern and Western Pascha/Easter fell on the same day this year. Well, you know what the say about exceptions, right? I hope you do, 'cause I forgot. Something about making an ass out of you and me?

The Complete, Unexpurgated History of the Blog, Part 4

At the age of nineteen, Olaf Blogg left home and moved to the town of Örebro, where he established a lint dealership. For unkonwn reasons, the venture was not sucessful.

Coincidentally, Örebro was also the hometown of Sweden's most famous racing driver, the late, great Ronnie Peterson. Known for his daring driving style and impressive sideburns, Peterson (above, by Ron Moody) was distinctly second rate when it came to knowledge of his more noteworthy countryman.

This 1977 interview, from Sweden's popular history magazine Itch, demonstrates Peterson's appalling lack of interest in his country's history.

Bjorn Svensson, Interviewer: Ronnie, how does it feel to be from the town known to all as the home of Olaf Blogg?

Ronnie Peterson: I'm a bit busy at the moment. Please get off the starting grid.

BS: How has Olaf Blogg's life most influenced you?

RP: What on earth are you talking about? The start lights are about to go out, you fool!

BS: Were you inspired to become a driver by the example of Olaf Blogg's determination?

RP: Look, I'd avoid you, but Brambilla's right behind me, and he'll run you down in a heartbeat.

BS: If you could name your favorite of Olaf Blogg's writings, which would it be?

RP: Ken! Stewards?! Anybody?! Get this idiot off the track!

Ronnie Peterson--great driver, but sorely lacking in historical perspective.

NEXT WEEK--A downturn in lint leads to an upturn at Lent.

The Complete, Unexpurgated History of the Blog, Part 3

Olaf Blogg (right, in a picture often misidentified as comparatively unimportant Olaus Rudbeck) grew up as the son of an irritant merchant. Sven Blogg dealt extensively in additives which gave clothes the extra itchiness and irritation so favored in the late 17th century. When Tsar Peter the great of Russia learned of this trend, he exclaimed "Here I am sitting in my comfortable clothes while the people of the west are itching their way to glory!" Soon every man, woman, and child in Russia was scratching to point of insanity in their new itchy clothes. Peter himself would beat his beloved son to death for refusing to submit to the new irritating status quo. Afterwards, Peter stunned his court by declaring "Who else wants a piece of this?!" while beating his chest.

Tragically, Sven Blogg would not live to reap the rewards of the Tsar's typically flaky behavior: He would die in the tragic herring plague of 1682. Young Olaf was raised by his often neglectful mother, Britney, and he soon retreated to a world of his own thoughts.

As Olaf would later describe, "I have so many thoughts in my head. There just went one now--I wonder what would happen if you gave a cat a sword? Probably nothing, I guess." From, a very early age, Olaf began to catalogue these thoughts, and others even more profound, in his journals. He was able to gain easy access to writing material; at the beginning of his reign, Sweden's king, Charles XI, had declared "Reading and writing are for chumps." Consequently, literacy took a temporary downturn which would last until Charles' sudden, surprising death in 1697, when, defying all known laws of physics (which weren't many back then) a lightning bolt struck the king up the ass.

By the end off his teens, Olaf had filled up an entire room with his journals. Hundreds of volumes were filled; no incident in Olaf's day was too trivial from him to record. Take this entry, for example:

"February 13, 1689. My stomach's rumbling again. I wonder how long my toenails would get if I never cut them? I think tomorrow I'll write about my ten favorite places to visit in Eskilstuna. I think I'll also trace a copy of a very interesting woodcut I received recently. Also, I received some jokes from a friend in the mail that I'd like to copy down."

Truly, the world was changing with every stroke of his pen.

NEXT WEEK: Olaf realizes such insights into the world must be shared.

The Complete, Unexpurgated History of the Blog, Part 2

Olaf Blogg was born in a small home on the coast of Sweden in 1674, three hundred years before ABBA put Sweden on the map. Literally, in fact. Thanks to an astonishing cartographic error, Sweden was left off maps of Europe for centuries. The existence of the Scandanavian nation was considered a hot topic of debate, and several major battles fought by the Swedish army were dismissed as "fearmongering."

In 1974, ABBA keyboardist Benny Andersson (above, in a photo he no doubt regrets, courtesy Wikipedia) faced the indignity of hearing his group introduced at the Eurovision Song Contest as hailing from "the mythical land of Sweden, which may be the home of two-headed dogs, fish with legs, and giant blonde people." Knowing only the last was true, Andersson was mortified.

As ABBA's success grew, Andersson concocted a daring plan. Using his songwriting royalties, he financed an expedition to survey Sweden once and for all. Spending nearly every krona he had, he and his team spent seven years wandering through the deadly Swedish jungles, mapping every centimeter of land. By the end of his journey, only a few hardy souls had survived.

When he presented his finding to the UN, Andersson was roundly mocked. The ambassador from Atlantis described Andersson's findings as "laughable, and utterly ridiculous." Even Sweden's ambassador denounced the expedition as a hoax.

Despairing, Andersson turned to the only man with enough pull at the UN to make a difference. Fortunately, Tom Lester, tv's lovable Eb from Green Acres, was willing to help. After a few phone calls, UN Secretary General Javier Perez de Cuellar declared that Sweden had been found at last. Planes on route to Stockholm could now land, safe in the knowledge that their destination actually existed.

Oh yeah--Olaf Blogg. Sorry, got a little sidetracked there.

IN TWO WEEKS: Blogg--the man, maybe the myth, but the misplacing will have to wait.

The Complete, Unexpurgated History of the Blog, Part 1

The blog. From Boston to Bulawayo, from Tokyo to Tunis, everyone these days has a blog. Even in Arkansas, there have been reports, albeit unconfirmed, of blogging. But, where did blogging begin? How did it come to sweep the earth, and possibly Mars? What does the future hold for the blog? I'm no psychic, so don't even try asking me that last question. However, I just might answer the first two in this exhaustive history that chronicles the beginnings of the phenomenon that, according to some reputable astrologers, may herald the beginning of the final age of humanity!

According to Wikipedia, the odd fellow pictured above was the one of the earliest bloggers. Once again, the online encyclopedia's credibility must be questioned. Not only does the blog predate this guy's birth, it predates the computer itself! Now, I'm sure you're thinking, "the telegraph, Samuel Morse, 'What hath God wrought?'" and all that nonsense. I'm sorry to say, you're wrong again - the blog is even older than that. Don't feel bad, it's an easy mistake.

Blog-like forms of communication have existed as long as the human race: cave paintings, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and Athenian erotic graffiti all point the way toward the blog. But the birth of the blog as we know it is intertwined with the dawn of the Enlightenment in Europe. For those who aren't familiar with the term, "The Enlightenment" was the period in which people began to see the best way to achieve progress was through synergy with corporate sponsors.

In the early 17th century, the Catholic Church promoted Galileo's new invention, the telescope, with a cooked-up heresy trial. The resulting controversy spurred sales of telescopes to a public who had previously paid the night sky no attention. It proved to be a lucrative partnership for both Galileo and the Church.

A few decades later, in England, Isaac Newton's discovery of the law of gravity was promoted through a tie-in deal with the Duke of Jobs' apple farms. The Duke spread the story that Newton made his discovery after being hit on the head with a fresh Jobs apple. The Duke recieved such a large windfall from his investment that he put Newton to work on a project developing a so-called "iPod" - a new type of seed pod, of course. The project was a dismal failure.

Into this climate of geniuses working hand-in-glove with big business, a unique figure was born. From his modest home on the southern tip of Sweden, Olaf Blogg would forever change the way we communicate. Well, it wouldn't actually change until three centuries later, but the groundwork was laid here. In Sweden. By Olaf Blogg. Trust me.

NEXT WEEK : The Man, the Myth, the Misplacing.