OK, the Internet is rife with sites that aren't exactly intellectually challenging, as amusing and entertaining as some of them may be.

For instance, there's Bored.com.

Or, if you're so inclined, you can visit the Peeps Bunny Survival Tests

And then there's Weird Auctions. Or the Ig Nobel Awards

Yep, there's a wealth of odd sites out there. Odd blogs, too, like Nuclear Bob's Shirt of the Day, or THIS IS FUN TO MAKE A BLOG ON THE COMPUTER WEBSITE

Joining the ranks now, if you can believe this, is Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Yeppers, he's got a blog. In his first post, he regales us ad nauseum with heart-wrenching tales of his poor upbringing:

During the era that nobility was a prestige and living in a city was perfection, I was born in a poor family in a remote village of Garmsar-approximately 90 kilometer east of Tehran. I was born fifteen years after Iran was invaded by foreign forces- in August of 1940- and the time that another puppet, named mohammad Reza – the son of Reza Mirpange- was set as a monarch in Iran. Since the extinct shah -Mohammad Reza- was supposed to take and enter Iran into western civilization slavishly, so many schemes were implemented that Iran becomes another market for the western ceremonial goods without any progress in the scientific field. Our Islamic culture would not allow such an infestation, and this was an impediment in front of shah and his foreign masters’ way. Thus, they decided to make this noble and tenacious culture weak gradually that Iran be attached strongly to the west as far as its economy, politics, and culture was concern. After the implementation of this policy and the unreal and outward of upswing, the villagers began to rush to the cities.

To be honest with you, I was waiting for a sort of "Doctor Evil" moment. You know, this sort of thing:

"The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament... My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon... luge lessons... In the spring, we'd make meat helmets... When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe...." and you know the rest.

Then again, they don't sound that different, really... and our burgeoning blogger does apologize for the fact that his first post is a bit long. He promises to shorten things up in the future. I can hardly wait.

To check it out, go here:
http://www.ahmadinejad.ir/

** Look for the little flags on the upper right to translate the page into the language of your choice **

UPDATE: According to several sources, including this one, our Iranian friend's blog has a nasty surprise for Israeli visitors clicking on links there...and may have the same little viral gifts for others. Proceed with care.