Everyone’s always goin on about the search terms that bring people to their blogs, and mine are boring. People love pretty pussy and I get a lot of traffic for combating head lice. I got somethin last week about head over ass, but that’s about as interesting as it gets. However, I do get bizarre, mean, and lewd comments and emails. I just don’t approve them or respond.
It’s best not to feed the trolls.
The Mister complains of verbal trolls in his online class forums, “They never pick a battle. They pick all the battles!” he says. I laugh. We commiserate on how some people never do learn not everything is worth a fight, or how it’s okay to let sleeping dogs lie, or rather, to let people walk around thinking what they think like the idiots they are.
The Mister’s perspective differs slightly from mine, because I think about young people from a teaching standpoint.
“Isn’t it nice that life hasn’t beaten the passion out of them yet?” I ask. We laugh.
I think even cynics can agree, no one likes a person who plays devil’s advocate all the time. No one likes a person who will come at you, guns ablazin’, purely on the basis of semantics.
Not everything is a See Something Say Something moment.
When I was little, my father read “Three Billy Goats Gruff” to me with all the voices. I loved it. I had no idea that I would so often encounter trolls as an adult.
The joy robbers, the thunder stealers, the pick-up artists, the one-uppers, the hyperbolists, the martinets, the nit-pickers, the @-ers, the haters, the weirdos — at least they keep things interesting as we cross the bridge to eat the tasty grass. Prolly not a lot of adventure in Utopia…
How many Anonymous Trolls live in a utopia?
Lemme tell you, we’re not livin in a utopia and Anonymous Trolls think the whole damn internet is their bridge.
Anonymous Trolls tell me I’m self-absorbed, illiterate, a dirty whore, nobody, a narcissist, an alcoholic, a shitty mom, a redneck, a precocious child. Anonymous wants to do me on the beach in Sarasota. Anonymous feels bad for my husband, because I am a selfish cow. Anonymous tells me my food looks gross, and that I am the ugliest blogger on WordPress. Anonymous says I lie about my age, have cold sores from sucking everyone’s dick, and that I am an attention whore. Anonymous wants me to know I am exploiting my children and exposing them to immorality, and that I will burn in Hell. Anonymous tells me my eyes are beautiful, my skin the perfect canvas for his ejaculate, sends me links, offers to come to Chicago to photograph my feet.
Sometimes I think Anonymous Trolls know me and use my Contact Me like an honesty box to avoid confrontation. Most of the time, I think Anonymous Trolls are strangers without impulse control. Online, you never can tell. Catfish, you know.
This is how The Mister and I got to the One-Liner that will never be Wednesday’s:
“Oh my God, you’re not one of the guys who wants to see my tits, are you?!?”
“No, I am, I just don’t email you about it!”
Then we laughed and laughed.