Nearly anonymous Typepad author GP Bogs, known for his conservative views, irreverent wit and cheesy picture pasting has been missing from his job as chief entertainment to three prominent members of the blogging community for the past seven days. Blogs' last entry was the classic February 25 birthday tribute to the member of his immediate family known only as "The Teenager."

Los Angeles police have scoured Blogs' recent entries on the seldom-traveled web site "Gentlemen Prefer Blogs" for clues to the brilliant, but troubled, writer's strange disappearance.

"We think this may have some connection with the Hunter Thompson thing from last week," offered chief detective Robert F. Golfball, "'cuz we heard this guy shot his mouth off sometimes and coulda made a few enemies.

"My first theory was that this may have something to do with his strange moniker. Blogs, y'know . . . it's not your usual name. But I guess people who live in glass houses shouldn't run out of Windex, if ya know what I mean."

At the mention of the clear blue cleaning fluid, a large man of Greek extraction emerged from his vantage point as Chief Crowd Lurker, loudly proclaiming, "Weeeeenn-dex . . . Eeeeet feeexes av-a-ry-ting!"

"I miss the big lug," sobbed his wife, Mrs. Blogs, better known to the initiated as "She Who is From Venus."

"Sure we fought occasionally over the Venus thing. I always saw myself as more of a Saturn or Pluto gal. But He Who Controls the Keyboard controls the naming rights in this family and GP certainly was a control freak when it came to his dammed blog."

When this reporter asked the lovely Mrs. B. if she meant that reference to be "damned blog" she was shocked, appalled and left gasping for breath.

"No, I never use such language! I mean to say he had a bad case of writer's block. Everything was backed up and nothing could get out. He had literary constipation. For days he had used our daughter's sixteenth birthday as an excuse to fill up page after page. But, truthfully, he hadn't really published anything of substance since that piece he did on the CD rewinder some time back. That was a nice one."

So far no one has come forward to claim dibs on this near-potential possible crime. But questions must be asked. Leads must  be followed. Every cliche in the book will be dusted off and checked for fingerprints.  Only then will authorities know whether they are looking at a case of poor kidnapping judgment or simply one more runaway blogger.

"If you see him," wept the Venusian One into her lace hanky, "please tell him . . . tell him . . . "

But because she was overcome by emotion Mrs. Blogs finished her thought with elaborate hand gestures and a stunningly improvised pie chart. She is believed to be headed for the dessert bar at The Hometown Buffet. Her bizarre behavior renders her a prime suspect in this unfolding drama.

Ongoing . . .