Felt Like a Good Polling

I had a tiny little poll running over there (points right) and it has not helped at all. I suppose if I had made the questions more definitive and easier to follow, rather than just amusing myself, it might have turned out a little clearer. Hanging chads I done tells ya.

The question was whether I should move Fahrenheit 72 off the blog, because it sort of gums the thing up. Essentially, F72 needs to be a certain number of words, and I know that some of you enjoy it. But if you’re not interested, it can be off-putting scrolling, scrolling, scrolling to get to the shorter more easily digested frippery that I clutter the interweb with. Let’s face it. If it’s too hard, you link out and elsewhere and I’ve lost the audience.

The results show, that of the massive sample taken:

10% say ‘Yes’ move F72, but link from this page.

40% say ‘No’, don’t move it.

40% say ‘Go and own the Bird Flew Press domain and stick it there’, which in essence is a vote for a move, so 50% say “move it”.

10% say stop it all together you twit. Which I have to be able to cop on the chin. I have wandered into the semi-public domain and put it out there, so there’s always a chance the reaction is not going to be what you expected and you just have to man-up and take it. You just have to say to yourself “Well AGA, you were asking for it, and if you divide the troops a little on the way, well so be it, it just shows that you are doing something right…maybe.” You just have to remind yourself that in the early days of being a radio-host, people could be a little unkind if you didn’t meet their tiny-minded, fuck-arse expectations, but you eventually won them over, despite the fact that it cost a little of your soul to do so. You didn’t lose that much sleep over it, and all you have to do is 'keep on keeping on'. You don’t want to measure yourself by the knockers, that means the death of all fun and creative urges. It doesn’t worry you so much anymore. Years of counselling and drugs have made sure that the bile rises less. The funny blurry effect when you’re watching the television is not as frequent now. The crushing, personality-blow headaches don’t distract you from the task at hand (as you sit there on the long, lonely, cold nights in The Bomb, staking out dead-end after dead-end on the trail of Fruitnose) in anything other than the most lightly paralysing ways. No. You’re fine with it AGA; no probs. Angels fly because they take themselves lightly. Spruce up your wings little AGA. Clear up rainy face.

I have made a decision.

I will move Fahrenheit 72 off the blog. Eventually. (Hah. That showed ‘em) And I’m not going to stop the case either. Other pan-dimensional gum-shoes might give up at such fierce resistance, but not this agency, oh no siree. AGADA is on the case.