• Fewer blisters.
• No slogging through mud to get to work. All I have to do is kick piles of dirty socks, pizza crusts and newspaper clippings away from my desk chair. I don’t even need boots for that, most of the time.
• I’m only responsible for my own limbs.
• I don’t have to live up to Paul Bunyan’s standards. I only have to keep up with Xi Xue or Dawn Yang. Who? Exactly.
• We both use bull lines, but mine don’t hurt my shoulders.
• The only rivers involved in my work are Riverdance, Riverdale, and YouTube videos of funny ways people fall out of boats.
• Bears don’t try to eat me—or my lunch—for lunch.
• I’m not required to wear plaid shirts, which is good as they make my neck look fat.
• No guilty loss of sleep due to clear-cutting virgin old-growth forests.
• I’m not called wood hick, river pig/hog/rat, or catty-man—at least to my face.
• I can work year round rather than seasonally. And if I don’t feel like working, I can cruise over to YouTube and find videos of extreme shepherding; I can close my eyes and memorize a page in my Urban Dictionary; or I can vote on entries from AITA.
• I only have one job title and it’s not whistle punk, chaser, high climber, choker-setter or tie hack.
• Blogging isn’t voted one of the worst, most dangerous jobs. Although time will tell.
• No scooping up after Babe, the Blue Ox.
On the other hand, there are no chainsaws, log rolling, or flumes for bloggers. And no BloggerJack Picnics where we compete in various bloggy events. There’s no jaunty Monty Python song about me, and I’ve never seen a school Blogger mascot.
Hmm. Maybe I should look into being a logger instead. After all, they’re practically required to eat loads of flapjacks and wear those cool suspenders. Besides, I’d probably look awesome in a beard. As long as it’s not plaid.
Do you think being a blogger is better than being a logger?