In the beginning, was the internet, flat and doughy and round as an uncooked crust.
And Google said, "Let there be blogs!" and blogs slathered their tangy tomato sauce all over the flatness of the bread, and baby pictures and daily listings of coffee consumed and videos of bike stunts were posted, and commenters said that they were awesome, and trolls said that the babies were ugly, and Google saw that it was good.
And Iggy said, "Oh the humanity!" and blogs about poker began to cover the flatness of the bread and the tang of the sauce, until a blogger pizza was formed.
And verily did Iggy see that, of the toppings on the blogger pizza, there appeared to be seven in number, and they spread about the pizza in various quantities and distributions, with various qualities and textures and Iggy saw that it was very weird.
The first topping is cheese. These are bloggers that seem to cover the whole scene. They've been to Vegas. They've been to Vegoose. They've been to eh-Vegas and Okie Vegas and Fake-as They provide links to new blogs, pimps to great new posts. They stretch and then break, leaving a big saucy soul-patch scalding on your chinny-chin chin.
The second topping is peperoni. Spicy and operating behind the scenes, these are the addictive bloggers that you just want to pick off and consume after you're full. These blogs are the spicy staple of any blogging community, providing tips, tricks, and strategy and the occasional flame rant. Eat too many, though, and you'll wake up with heartburn. Woe unto you!
The third topping are mushrooms. A little bit different, these bloggers. The oddballs of the bunch. Chewy. Clammy. They sometimes leave you cold, but they change the mix with a variety of new looks at the game. Maybe they make crossword puzzles, or Daniel Negraneu paper dolls, or a diorama of poker strategy guides. They bring something new to the table, and often leave their chips there.
The fourth topping is sausage. Sausage is the blogger that hates you, and you hate them, and they look like a little rabbit turd and taste like failure. Their posts are stupid and vainglorious. You know who you are. If you're asking, "Is it me?" . . . yes, it is. It is you.
No not you. That one, over there. The one by the window.
The fifth topping is onions. No blogosphere is complete without these radicals. They do the stuff that nobody else will do. Sometimes their efforts leave you with a marvelous pepper-water taste sensation. Sometimes they make you cry. Whatever you do, you know this: They'll make your breath stink, and at least half the given population will hate them and pick them off before eating.
The sixth topping is green pepper. Aloof, these bloggers are rarely seen leaving comments and never seen in person. Their moralistic posts about the evils of the game's excesses and the green coloring make you feel like you're eating something healthy.
The seventh topping is waffles. Confusing, I know. There it is, though.
And lo! Upon seeing the seventh topping, Iggy said, "screw it, I'm blogging about politics." And then did Al get schnockered, and the bloggers did weep, and gnash their teeth, and rent their garments, and then they raised the rent, but still refused to paint.