This is a very clever guy. He submitted his site for review then changed the URL. Bright huh? I’m English so maybe Chum means something different in the US, but here in the UK it means the stuff Mr Chester’s dad wasted in creating this guy.
The site is simple and straightforward enough. A good looking banner and left and right side panels containing an about me link, contact details and the usual archives and links to other blogs. There is also a drop down menu with a link to his more “satirical” pieces. Some of the links work; some don’t – for instance the chance to add his button to your site thankfully doesn’t.
The actual web log is easy to read; black text on white with a comments facility and a good use of pictures. There are no links from the text.
There is a calendar in the right panel which misdirects you around the site. I tried February 5 and came up with June 7. February 27 fetched nothing and June 7 brought forth June 10. There is also no home page icon which is a drag.
The site showcases the “twisted comic mind of Bob Chester”; a scholar of comedy. These are his descriptions. His posts contain foul mouthed, infantile, moronic comedy at its worst. He takes the piss out of everything with little skill and very quickly finds the lowest common denominator. Bin Laden, New York Yankees, Vikings, Mexicans, karate, the origins of alphabet soup, black people who don’t fit a stereotype, Jesus and Michael Jackson are all targets of his ill aimed wit. The Michael Jackson post is particularly offensive and unfunny.
I usually read a web log through, but stopped and went out before resuming as I thought a different frame of mind might enlighten me to Mr Chester’s way of thinking. No luck. I stopped shortly after starting again. The latest post contains a beautifully written piece concerning Michael J Fox. Mr Chester’s own words can sum up his work much better than any criticism I could make and I quote…”Do you think he knew what Parkinson’s was before he got it? I don’t think so. One day he couldn’t stop shaking his latte expresso all over himself. Then he ran down the street screaming “Doc! Doc! I can’t keep my food in my mouth!” Until that happens to me, I was wondering if you could stop fucking telling me about it. There are only so many times I can think “Holy shit, I wouldn’t want that at a dinner party”, before I change the channel.”
Mr Carter actually states in his profile that we could join him and “Watch as his sense of your humor grows greater every day.” Welcome to the addiction. If that’s the case – where’s the nearest rehab? I can give it no more than a half out of five for the design.