Tuesday, June 1, 2004

In an effort to expand our audience and increase revenues, Secondhand Rants will eventually cater to readers of all ages as a family-friendly publication. Before we can do this, however, it would be wise to profile our current readership. What’s the typical gentle reader, gentle reader?

After trudging into the office and setting my briefcase on fire, I called my PR department while stirring my morning coffee. I’ve always loved multitasking, and this 21st century conceit has returned the favor time and time again.

(click)

“My dear peons, I’d like a full report on our current readership.”

(click)

“In pie charts.”

(click)

“Written in the blood of newborn children.”

Realizing the delicious irony of my last request, I settled into my Gonzo-hair executive chair and waited for the report to materialize. Half an hour later my StupidChef–Secondhand Rants’ patented take on the dumbwaiter–was still empty.

“Wow,” I said peevishly, turning to administer a few swift kicks to the contraption. “You really are stupid.”

In a preternatural moment made even more fantastic by the early Tuesday morning, the machine sputtered to life and spit out a package. I opened it and promptly called my receptionist.

(click)

“Gladys, what the hell is this? Is this some kind of pastry? Did you patch me through to PR?”

There was a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, I think I might’ve dialed the local bakery. I thought it was strange when the baker said, ‘Newborn children? Maybe he meant newborn chickens.’ I’m so sorry, really I am!” she wailed. “I’m just so hungry all the time.”

(click)

“Why are you hungry? Didn’t we just pay you on Friday?”

“No, sir, you haven’t paid me in a month. You said I could have stock options instead. Can’t eat those, I’m afraid,” she said despondently.

(click)

“You’re right, you can’t eat stock options. But you can sure as heck try.”

I hung up on the whiny wench and proceeded to make my own report. Since I lacked solid data to back my profile, I had to triangulate roughcut statistics, which is to say I made shit up. Here are my conclusions.

The typical gentle reader is:

* 9 to 40 years old

* Probably drunk

* Enjoys sitting on the porch while hosing down passersby

* Loves cats. With tartar sauce.

I think we’re ready for some change.