If you’re reading this, then you’re reading it in the future. Probably not so far in the future that you’re reading it in a flying car, while a robot massages your erogenous zones, but you’re certainly not reading it today. This means you read an article on this blog which hasn’t been written yet, from my perspective. It means you liked it so much that you decided to read through the archives. Congratulations, you have excellent taste.
It also means two more things. One possibility is that you’ve been clicking from previous article to previous article, reading backwards through individual posts, lured on step by step by my charm and wit. Congratulations, the proper flow of time means nothing to you now, and you’ve been procrastinating so long that whatever you needed to do is probably no longer relevant. The second possibility is that at some point, you decided to go all the way to the very beginning and read forwards. You’ve just committed to reading over one hundred years’ worth of blog posts, you poor fool (depending on when you’re from).
So you’ll either have been confused, or will be confused very shortly. See, all the posts prior to this one were written by Henneth; my good friend, helicopter pilot, waffle cook and occasional unicorn wrangler. This was a watershed moment, when the blog changed hands. For the sake of continuity and narrative, I’ll say this: Hello, my name is Josh.
To me, the name One Click Too Many implied that I should not only bring you the successful, professional stories that Henneth used to write, but also information that made you wish you could Ctrl+Z your brain. It sounded like a place we can confess the things we found when we surfed too far in the wrong direction. A place where you can find safety after being driven crazy by that one link you shouldn’t have clicked.
So, I’m sorry about doing that to your brain. But you’re partly to blame too. You helped build this. Without you and your precious page views, dear reader, how could I have grown an audience of millions, an empire of flying cars and an army of sex-robots.