Tonight, now that it's after hours, I must tastefully broach the subject of followers. I have no issue with followers. I'm not on a quest to gain more and more to keep up with the Joneses. If I'm followed, fine and dandy. I'm happy to see my regulars pop up when I log on.
My other blog has more followers. I've noticed that some bloggers heartily welcome each one to the fold. It's a classy thing to do. I am not averse to it. But I often don't notice when a new one shows up. If they leave a comment, I welcome them in the comments. Otherwise, they're on their own. I haven't devoted much thinking time to the issue. Until today.
Something looked different. I noticed a new follower. I let my cursor hover over the picture dealybobber. The name appeared. Twatsmacker.
I try to keep my other blog up to snuff. A bit more upscale than my Mansion in Hillmomba. Sure, I wrote about my dream where I had four boobs. But aside from that, it's a classy joint. I don't go running my pottymouth fingers. No inappropriate language. Which puts me in quandary. A part of me wants to welcome my newest follower. Another part of me does not.
I'm sure Twatsmacker is a lovely person. But I just can't see myself writing, "And I'd like to welcome Twatsmacker to our little community. Make yourself at home, Twatsmacker. I hope you enjoy your visit. Come again."