Top of the chart Sept. 25, 2012

  

It’s Tuesday, we must be in the main office (an allusion to that old movie “It’s Tuesday, this must be Rome.”)

The question is which of the two owners will oversee our staff meeting?

Michelle, my friend from Jersey City, said our office sounds a lot like Einstein’s definition of madness, because we keep doing the same thing over and over and expect a different result.

This also seems to be true of her, the same perpetual chaos of trickling up that never actually accomplishes anything, ebbs and flows, but never anything different.

No doubt I have a lot to do with the pattern this time, even if I don’t live up to the pattern of her usual stalkers.

Michelle thinks it’s all about getting attention, or being the focus of it, and that she’s grown so comfortable with having stalkers in her life, she doesn’t know what to do without them.

They feed her craving for attention the way a heroin or cocaine fills a need. Once you’re addicted, you can’t stop.

I wonder if it is possible to give a positive response and still satisfy that craving, without the usual self-destructive tendencies.

Our male owner appears to have caught onto the fudging of numbers of hits for the top story list, apparently looking at IP addresses, her and her friends, me and mine, spiking different stories to get top billing – although the rise in her stories hit list seem to come to a halt the minute her stories reached the top spot.

The owner actually yanked a couple of the stories off the list entirely and seems to be monitoring the site to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

The whole thing seems immensely dishonest, as if she feels a desperate need to cheat to get ahead.

All of it may not have anything to do with her, of course. Some admirer, perhaps her stalker, might be doing it, just to ingratiate himself or herself with her.

I wouldn’t put it passed her stalker from Brooklyn, and maybe he isn’t even telling her he’s doing it, just loving the idea that she’s top of the chart.

I’m certainly not going to ask the owner if the IP addresses are from Brooklyn. I suppose the whole game will end now that he’s cracked down on it.

Or maybe not. One can imagine an army of her current and former stalkers getting behind such a project to pump up her ego by pumping up her numbers.

A silly idea, I know.


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