He's been kind of stealth-blogging on Facebook (along with getting paid for his writing at Cracked Dot Com and, more recently, The Portland Mercury), but at many peoples' urging he's graduated to his own blog, Dammit, Bobby.
This means he could write about how, really, it's easier to be direct and honest on the Internet than a lot of us seem to think it is:
I’m trying to read about Spider-Man photos and shit. I want links to animated gifs of Marge Simpson krumping. I don’t need you...coughing up personal details couched behind a thin veil of pouting.He also can write about the still-evolving aftermath of Loughner's shooting of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, where geek culture could go from here, imaginary conversations (“Christ you’re pretentious.” “Tell me you know what that word means.” “It means you act like you’re smarter than you are.” “So you, the person trying to defend this pile of shit because ‘It’s robots beating each other up what did you want’ are using words like ‘pretentious’ because *I’M* trying to sound smarter than I am?”), and more!
What you think you’re doing:
“Hey friends! I’m a little teakettle! WHOOOOOOOOOO. Boy, that sure helped relieve my stress. Go on about your day, thanks!”
What you’re more than likely actually doing:
“Hey friends! One of you sucks. But I’m not gonna tell you DIRECTLY which one of you it is. Which means it could be ALL of you. And guess what happens when one of you, who has the sack I DON’T HAVE, tries to find out directly from me whatever it is I’m alluding to? I’m going to get annoyed with you, and tell you I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Well isn’t that therapeutic.
It also gives him a place to put his older writings, like his Cracked piece "The Top Ten Decades of The Last Century: Because If You’re Gonna Make a Bullshit List, Go Big With It." Or why he tries not to get too wrapped up in the Oscars ("Everyone remembers the slick bit of larceny that opens Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indy leaves a bag of sand on a podium and yoinks a golden. That year at the Academy Awards, Chariots of Fire pulled the same trick, snaking the statue out from under Spielberg, leaving him looking all sad panda with a sack of sand in his hand. This theft is a good example of the genre snobbery that makes phrases like “Oscar Bait” even possible. All anyone really remembers from Chariots of Fire is the scene where a bunch of dudes in John Stockton shorts sprint along the edge of a beach. If that’s all it takes to win an Oscar, where’s the Best Picture for Rocky III?"). Or this, which he wrote in 2005.
And Bobby's blog title and subtitle work in references to King of the Hill and Arrested Development. I like how his mind works.