I post the vast majority of comments I get on this blog (when Blogspot actually forwards them to me for moderation, that is.) Every once in a while, I get a few that are outright spam or cries for attention from strangers who want people to: 1)boost the hit count on their hot pink photo page of pretty puppies; 2)look at their genitals; or 3)sign up for their super-duper oh-its-not-a-pyramid-scheme scheme.
These get slam-dunked directly into the great online trash basket. Sorry, no time to suffer fools or look at some dude's junk or get involved in some real estate or vitamin supplements boondoogle. But thanks, anyway. Seriously. I have coffee to drink and diatribes to craft.
Back in 2005, when I was unemployed, scared, depressed, and wondered if I should just take a long walk out into the Atlantic, I got a lot of really cruel and vicious comments from anonymous posters. Some of them really rattled me - like the ones that suggested I should have been aborted or I should "just die already." That was pretty freaky. The craptacular apartment where I have lived for more than a decade in glorious, unrepaired housing mediocrity is a condo. For some people, the word "condo" means well-appointed digs at the Dakota. For me, it's a crappy one-bedroom rented dwelling with a phone line that doesn't work well and mice in the kitchen.
I wrote a post about my problem with the mice back in 2005, when I was scared to leave home or complain, for fear of losing what passes for my home. I said something about needing to call the condo office, and, holy crow, did that ever open a can of worms for some readers. "You talk about how poor you are, yet you live in a condo? Go to hell!" read one comment. "Condo? Condo?!? Go fuck yourself and your pity party!" was another.
At that point, I was ready to call it quits with the blogging. I was a shell of a human anyway. Pretty damn miserable all around. But I got a handful of comments - from Magazine Man and A.J. Gentile, I remember in particular - telling me not to give up and to keep posting. And I did.
My skin has gotten thicker about the comments, and sometimes I even laugh when I get an angry critic or some tool who just has to tell me how much I suck. This morning, I logged on to find two comments that had popped up overnight. Each made me laugh. Instead of moderating them, I've decided to share them with you here. Enjoy.
This one, offered up in response to my Valentine's Day screed, starts off in a complimentary mood, but goes downhill rapidly:
"There are a lot of guys who would love to have a girlfriend or wife who only expected a burrito and cut rate flowers for Valentines Day. That would be a real dream. But the reality is that the quality women expect more. If you were attractive, you would know this."
Why thank you, anonymous guy! I'll consider this. Of course, it might be difficult for a woman lacking quality to fathom your philosophy. Perhaps if I were attractive, I'd still like burritos and cut rate flowers. What a bargain! Then, I could spend all that money you saved on food and flowers and blow it on travel to Thailand and foot massages instead.
That would be my real dream, quality guy.
And then, there was this comment, left early this morning on one of my serious posts from back in 2005:
"Merujo, you could be a great writer, but you are only a good writer now. You lack consistency in your posting. Your good pieces are somewhat negated by the fluff you post like Spiders On Drugs. Yes, that was cute, but it does nothing to advance your endeavours. Good luck. I hope to see more outstanding writing in future."
Wow, I am grateful for your concern. I had no idea Spiders on Drugs would be so detrimental to my blog offerings. I actually appreciate the critique, but no one is offering me a book deal based on what I write here, I'm afraid. If someone does decide to give me an advance and a contract, I'll control the urge to post more crack spider videos, I promise. Until then, I'm not John Cheever, and these are laughing quadruplets. Enjoy.
Okay. I promise, anonymous commenters: I will aim higher. I will struggle to advance my endeavours. I will work hard to be both a quality writer and a quality woman.
As for today? I'll just revel in my non-quality non-greatness. Maybe I'll watch the drug-addled spiders again. (And laugh.) Ill watch the snow fall outside the office, plow through some paperwork, ponder if we're getting tomorrow off due to "wintry mix" and get ready to watch Cary Elwes be all hot and middle-aged and English on L&O: SVU tonight.
Ahhh, Cary Elwes. That's another post altogether...
Yours, drooling and lacking in quality,
P.S. Tonight, Cary Elwes was showing a bit of a potbelly, his hair was kinda limp and his face much wider than I recall from his youth. And, as usual, I found him absolutely adorably hot. Love that man. Always will.