Two years ago, we started Telestial State—hoping to become the worst Utah had to offer. We’re not sure whether we failed or succeeded; but now, just like any two-year-old, we’re ready to be drowned in the bathtub.
Why are we going this route? Why are going to off ourselves instead of embracing our failures like men? We don’t know, but it probably has something to do with Orrin Hatch.
We had lofty visions of success where throngs of people would sing our praises and they’d throw a parade in our honor, rivaling the attendance of the few dozen who show up each year for Utah’s Gay Pride Parade.
Well, none of that happened. We didn’t get a book deal, or a movie deal, or even a hand job outside the State Capital; but what we did get was a few new friends, a lot of laughs, and a surprisingly low amount of Cease and Desist letters.
So as much as we hate you all, we’d like to leave you with two things:
First, some advice. This wasn’t our first go at a blog, and it certainly won’t be our last. But if you’re thinking of starting a similar endeavor, here are some things to keep in mind. Having a budget of $0 makes it hard to get the word out, and it’s hard to consistently provide good content when everyone is working for free. Having a narrow demographic—in our case, the few people who want to read stuff making fun of Utah and Mormons and BYU—makes things harder. And having a disincentive to share—where people may not want others to know they’ve been reading, for instance, disparaging (yet hilarious) remarks about the LDS church—makes things even harder.
Secondly, we want to tell all you fuckers thank you. We’ve had a lot of good times writing, live-tweeting, and otherwise laughing—with each other and with each of you. We may still tweet from time to time, and the Telestial State archives will be available indefinitely, but we’re moving on to other things, other projects, and other sexual fantasies.
We wish you all the best of luck in whatever you’re doing*. If we ever meet in person, you’re welcome to buy us a drink. And if Orrin Hatch dies in the next year or so, we hope you’d vote for one of us to replace him.
In the name of cheese and rice,