Translation and Interpreting in 150+ Languages
A cartoon figure with fingers pointing at them. The caption reads, "All Your Fault."
Hiatal Diagnosis: It’s All Your Fault
September 3, 2013 - By: - In: Interpretation, Language, Translation - Comments Off on Hiatal Diagnosis: It’s All Your Fault

Been a dog’s age since I last posted at TranslationGuy.

So many excuses:  “Oh, my hands hurt… writing about translation technology doesn’t move me… I want to spend more time with my family…I can’t keep up with my drinking…”

Pitiful, I know. What reader has sympathy for the sob stories of a writer who does not write, annother literary chickenshit quaking before the tyranny of the blank page. Whiners gotta whine. But honestly, and I’m looking straight into your eyes as I write this, the real reason is you. Not you in particular, but you as in “gentle reader.” It’s not your fault that you are the wrong demographic, but…

Not to say that for the readership for TranslationGuy, isn’t the best ever,  an audience of erudite opinion leaders (and the rest of you) who have made this the most popular translation blog on the Web year after year. Only problem is, you guys don’t pay. You language lovers just don’t love translation services enough to pay for it.

So now I must reveal the message of my most intimate tattoo, a quotation of Sir William Johnson inked two-inches-high all scrolly-like across two buttocks:  “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.” This is my creed, but I have sinned. I just have this basic problem about writing the kind of copy I’m supposed to write to bring in the big bucks, which is I don’t. I write about what I find amusing. And it just doesn’t pay.

So even though I am blaming my readers, gentle and otherwise, the ultimate utter failure of this blog is all on me. So I fired everyone, except for me. (It’s called “leadership,” OK, so don’t judge.)

I’ve brought in a digital team of slick savvy hipsters  to revamp the whole 1-800-Translate online presence in order to create a lead generation and conversion system that will spit out crisp twenties like an ATM on Adderall, while I sit back with my feet up on the desk and watch those greenbacks pile up on the floor. Mmmm. I love that shuff, shuff, shuff sound a cash dispenser makes. So far, its mostly

That will be so fine. They say I can keep writing whatever I want too. And since I’ve always been a big believer in “have your cake and eat it too,” I also plan to subvert this new, finely honed discipline of corporate messaging with stuff I like to write about.

Shuff, shuff, shuff…

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