There’s Snark, and then There’s Being an Asshole
Look, I like curmudgeons, and I love curse words -- all of them. I swear quite frequently, to the dismay of my conscience, and I enjoy every last filthy syllable. I also enjoy a good snarkfest, when it’s well-written, funny. I like it when people hate stuff, even if that stuff might include me (oh, yeah, baby, bring it on). It feeds my inner demons -- whose names are Catherine, Barbara and Billy, by the way. It soothes my self-loathing, my anger at the world, how screwed up it’s become, how unbelievably stupid I find most people despite my genuine empathy for them all. I’m a hypocritical misanthrope without a cause. To sum up, I like bastards and bitches, people like Don Rickles, Howard Stern, Rosanne Barr, Stephen King, Chris Rock and Margaret Cho...people who aren't afraid, are wound a bit too tightly, who are opinionated, who sometimes engage in socially unacceptable behaviors. I like insanity, and I like it raw, balls out. I like it with ketchup, hold the onions. Give me an intelligent nutcase with something valid to say.Do not, however, give me a big tub of rancid lard, a thing of indigestible shit that stinks like Donald Trumps’s feet. Do not, do not, do not give me four letter words unless they are used to emphasize a point made, a funny quip or an angry diatribe of merit. Don’t throw them at me like a four-year-old who only just discovered how funny pee and poopy are. That’s just stupid.
If that tub of lard happens to be a man, and he often uses disgusting, insulting epithets to demean and intimidate women, that’s more than stupid -- that’s war. Tub of lard rates a thousand on my Hate O Meter. Perhaps even a million.
I have recently come across a huge tub of lard so revolting, so heinous and over-the-top “retarded” (his favorite word, it seems), that I feel compelled to defecate upon his unfortunate blog. No, I shall not link to him. Guess.
I went there, to the Tub of Trump Stank (my name for this blog), because I’d heard he was dissing a friend of mine, putting her down, yakking on her blog and whatnot. I’ll be honest and say that I didn’t, at first, think that the Tub of Trump Stank was all that bad, really. I mean, I’d read on others’ blogs about what a shitty writer the guy is, how boring, blah, blah, blah, but I found myself taking to some of Tub’s posts. Some, mind you, certainly not all. What a shame, I thought, that Tubby, Tubby, Trumpy Stanky Pants can’t keep his obviously miniscule member off his site; he rubs it all over the page, moaning, until he climaxes with uproarious self-loving laughter. It’s awful to see.
Anyway, I went back there, out of curiosity, and, because I’m an honest soul, I’ll also admit to sort of liking the Tubby fuck. Well, I wish I hadn’t. He was at it again, rubbing his thang up against his monitor, engaging in the most shocking display of frotage I have ever witnessed. You see, he disrespected another friend of mine, only this time, it was worse. He not only disparaged this woman, but he thought it humorous to make light (understatement here) of a nightmarish experience she’d survived as a child.
That won’t do. Oh no, not at all.
My fingers were poised to let out a vent of enormous magnitude, but then....I stopped myself. Because...because....because.
I was too sad. Couldn’t get up the gumption. Didn’t want to waste my effort on such a lost cause.
Rule number 5,097 of Good Snark: Say it funny, and say it true, even if it hurts a little, but don’t slay your subject. Ever.
Peace out.
posted by Ms. Lori @ 2:47 PM
8 Comments:
C'mon, what's his URL? Please? Just between us?
Ms. Lori is right not to give out this guy's URL (much as I, too, am curious). Don't give him the satisfaction of more hits! He sounds like a creep.
Hi there. I sent you an email to the hotmail account you have listed on your profile. I thought I would tell you here since I rarely check my hotmail and I don't want you to miss it!
i've been following this same thread for a couple of days, and like you, i'm just not that interested in adding any comments at all to the whole conversation. one of my other favorite bloggers gets a lot of these flame comments and she just deletes them outright. because i visit her site every friggin 10 minutes i sometimes come across these and come back later to see they're gone. just. not. worth. it.
Ms. Lori you really shouldn't fret people like that guy. Little wanna be thugs like him are a dime a dozen and the only difference between him and the rest of the little punk ass BOYS you see standing on the street corner with their pants drooping down the crack of their asses and him is that he has a keyboard. ;)
Lori, I love you!
Why IS it that any jerk with a comprehensive vocabulary of nothing but four-letter words (usually misspelled at that) thinks that = snarkiness?
Uh, no. Doesn't. And won't ever.
I never claimed to be snarky. That was Ms. Lori. Heck, I never claimed to be anything.
And not linking to me is more than fine, but to not do so as to not give me traffic I don't deserve? The rest of the known blog universe may be driven by traffic and comments, but I really don't care about either. Sincerely.
Your armor-clad disdain for me is too bad. We could have made beautiful music together. Heh.
DaB
dabrettman.com
DbM, The reason I didn't link to you is because of a few things you said in one of your posts pertaining to a friend of mine. I didn't want to contribute to others reading such insulting things about a dear and beautiful girl who certainly didn't deserve your insensitive remarks.
You say that your blog is your blog and that you can say whatever you please -- of course you can. But, DbM, when you write horrible, cruel things about someone, then link to them in the hopes that everyone else will share in your insane glee, that, imo, crosses the line.
Your link will show up in search engines (ooooh, I'm really fucking smart, eh?), and whenever someone looks for that girl's blog, there your link will be. In all its hideous splendor.
Would it please you if there were sickening things written about your mother for all to read forever and ever and ever? How about your sister? Wife? Don't care? Well then, what about your daughter? What if your daughter, God forbid, were molested, and she chose to write about her struggles since then, her healing process, and out of spite, some guy she doesn’t even know called her a fat pig, smirked at her pain by linking to a letter she'd written to her attacker. And she finds that link, and she reads that post, and then she cries. Would you find that amusing, DbM?
What you must realize is that there are hearts and souls behind these here blogs. Sometimes incredible pain fuel these blogs.
C'mon, chickenlips, I know you have a heart. Take her links off your blog.
And yes, we probably could’ve made some kind of music together. I don’t know about beautiful, but damn straight we could have banged a few gongs.
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