(FORTUNE Small Business) – Frankly, I'm surprised--and a little hurt--that no one has seen fit to start a blog about my blog. It feels as if everyone out there must be reading every entry I post because of all the unfriendly looks I get on the street. So let's just get this out of the way: Yes, I am the guy you think I am. The middle-aged fellow who still gets a thrill out of writing words like "lubricious" and who clings to his dream of working in the great outdoors as a mail carrier. But surely you already know that much about me. It is all part of the blog-versation we have been having in the blogosphere every day, all day.

Like so many others, I started a blog so that I could see myself think, so that my unique voice might be heard beyond the pages of the doomed and clueless dead-tree media. Also, I wanted to get stinking rich. Given the vast readership my every musing was bound to attract, I figured that advertisers would soon flock to my blog. Sophisticated readers would click through with their hard-earned allowances. Heck, maybe my blog would be optioned by one of those fancy satellite radio companies, where someone with a wild dramatic flair--Paul Harvey, say--could read it aloud to fistfuls of audiophiles every day. Then I would have a business on my hands.

Not that it would be easy; art never is. Naturally my blog's employees would start their own blogs, where they could post their mistaken impressions of me. But I would respond calmly, by firing them. You would read all about it on my blog, where fellow entrepreneurs could share their wisdom on the best constellations to outsource to and weigh in on my struggle to decide which brand of supply-chain management software came in the snazziest box.

But the truth is that I never had any supply-and-demand issues. I shared everything about myself on my blog, and still nobody blogged back. That is the thanks I get for making myself vulnerable. By now you've learned all about my hookup with Maria Bartiromo and other Atkins-induced hallucinations. My blog, you might be interested to know, was the first place you could have read the news of my incipient bald spot. And it didn't seem to matter to anyone that I was the brave blogger who exposed and ultimately proved that I had plagiarized portions of my online biography from the pages of Iacocca. In the preblog age of old media, a twerp like me could never have brought down the likes of an icon like me.

I tried everything to provoke a response. Remember the titillating revelations about my sleep injuries? How about my succinct analysis of the race to claim the country's most coveted office--from that doddering regent Bob Schieffer? Didn't the intimate pictures I posted of my pilgrimage to Dollywood resonate at all? And I hate to think of the hurt I needlessly inflicted on others. Yes, it is true that my sister has some wacky theory about how cellphone towers are diminishing our collective IQ. All I meant was that she ought to live right next to one (as I always have) before she goes jumping to any conclusions. From now on we'll be sorting out our differences in private, the way civilized folk do.

Because I have really had it. I am shutting down my blog for good. I'll just go back to being one of those small-minded people who selfishly live life, rather than generously chronicling every tedious moment. If I do finally spring for that new web-enhanced hole punch, you'll never even know about it. You'll be left to wonder forever what I listened to next on my iPod--after I finish those Tony Robbins podcasts in 2016. But if you happen to find yourself missing my blog, don't hesitate to mention it--on your own blog, of course.