The effects of pizza on blogging...."The Godblogger"

Pepperoni and mushroom pizza, combined with an overactive blogging imagination can result in just the strangest dreams...


FADE FROM BLACK: Interior of Don Corleonsis' home office


PEERLESSIMO (seated in front of the Don's desk, facing the camera)

I believe in The Blogosphere. The Blogosphere has made me famous…well, sorta. And I wrote my blog in The Blogosphere fashion. I gave it humor, but -- I never used it to dishonor our family of bloggers. It found another blog…not a Caps blog. My blog poked fun at it; my blog stayed out late reading new entries. I didn't protest. Two days ago, the other blog tried to take advantage of my blog…called it names, called it worthless, that no one should read it. My blog resisted. It kept its honor. So they flamed it, like an animal. When I opened my blog, it was full of comments, nasty ones…It couldn't even weep because, well…it’s a blog.

But I wept. Why did I weep? It was the light of my life -- beautiful blog. Now it will never be beautiful again.

[Peerlessimo breaks down. The Don gestures to McPhee to give Peerlessimo a drink]

Sorry...

[Peerlessimo, taking the drink, sips from the shot glass]

I -- I went to the administrator, like a good blogger. These other bloggers were suspended. The administrator sentenced them to three days of suspension -- suspension. Suspension! But they went free that very day! I sat at my keyboard like a fool. And those two bastards, they sent a smiley emoticon at me. Then I said to my dog, Koho, "for justice, we must go to Don Corleonsis."



DON CORLEONSIS (sitting behind his desk, petting a cat)

Why did you go to the administrator? Why didn't you come to me first?



PEERLESSIMO

What do you want of me? Tell me anything. But do what I beg you to do.



DON CORLEONSIS

What is that?

[Peerlessimo gets up to whisper his request into Don Corleonsis' ear]

That I cannot do.


PEERLESSIMO

I'll give you anything you ask.


DON CORLEONSIS

We've known each other many years, but this is the first time you came to me for counsel, for help. I can't remember the last time that you invited me to your blog for a chat coffee, even though my office sends you season tickets. But let's be frank here: you never wanted my friendship. And uh, you were afraid to be in my debt.


PEERLESSIMO

I didn't want to get into trouble.


DON CORLEONSIS

I understand. You found paradise in Blogger.com, had a good blog, had a few page hits. The administrator protected you; and there were things you could do. And you didn't need a friend of me. But uh, now you come to me and you say -- "Don Corleonsis give me justice." -- But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Godblogger. Instead, you come into my office on the day my hockey team is undefeated, and you, uh, ask me to do this thing, for money.


PEERLESSIMO

I ask you for justice.


DON CORLEONSIS

That is not justice; your blog is still running.


PEERLESSIMO

Then they can suffer then, as it suffers…How much shall I pay you?


DON CORLEONSIS (stands, turning his back toward Peerlessimo)

Peerlessimo... Peerlessimo... What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? Had you come to me in friendship, then this scum that ruined your blog would be suffering this very day. And that by chance if an honest man such as yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you.


PEERLESSIMO

Be my friend --

(then, after bowing and the Don shrugs)

-- Godblogger?


DON CORLEONSIS (after Peerlessimo kisses his hand)

Good.

(then)

Some day, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me. But uh, until that day -- accept this justice as a gift on my hockey team’s game day.


PEERLESSIMO (as he leaves the room)

Grazie, Godblogger.


DON CORLEONSIS

Prego.

(then, to McPhee, after Peerlessimo leaves the room)

Ah, give this to ah, Vogel. I want reliable people; people that aren't gonna be carried away. I'm mean, we're not murderers, despite of what this pamphlet writer says.



Honest...it was the pizza.