Morning hike
We met Daniel five years ago, just after we moved into our house. Michael and I were in the playground when a little boy walked over wearing a Darth Vader helmet. The AWESOME thing about this helmet (to Daniel, who was four) was that when you wore it, your voice sounded like Darth Vader’s. The TERRIFYING thing about this helmet (to Michael, who was three and a half) was that it was possible that it really was Darth Vader.
The boys are more than best friends: they are like brothers.
Dear Christians and other haters,*
Perhaps we should go over the proper way to insult people.
A good insult is creative. You’re probably going to need to spend some time thinking about it. Extra curse words don’t make it a better diss, especially if you haven’t found a unique way to use those curse words. They just make you look like you have a limited vocabulary. This is especially true when you don’t appear to understand what a sentence is.
A good insult is true. If you’re just raving wildly, I’m going to laugh at you. For example, you might tell me that my mother’s a whore. I have no idea why you would think this would bother me, because it’s not true. Personal insults aren’t going to work unless you know me personally: in that case, perhaps you could come up with something really imaginative and cutting.
A good insult is insulting to me, not just to you. For example, you might discover through your limited research that I support gay marriage. Armed with this information, you might be able to figure out that I’m really not going to be too bothered if you call me gay. I can tell that you obviously think that’s a terrible thing, but you’re trying to upset ME, remember? It happens that I’m not gay, but really, who cares?
A good insult considers what I might want from you. Maybe your research tells you that I want attention. In that case, the best insult would be to ignore me. I have had great success with this, and as I am not significantly more interesting or talented than the people I ignore, it might work for you, too. God forbid anyone would stop reading my disjointed, insipid personal blog!
Finally, a good insult will make me think about how to improve. While “U R fat” may point out a problem, it does not really inspire me to change. You want your insults to lead me to something better. That way, when I accidentally improve, you can congratulate yourself on your minor success.
I’m just trying to help.
Love always,
Megan
* Excepting the small but lovely group of Christians who visit this blog regularly, of course. They have almost nothing in common with the folks I’m talking about.
“I love it how…”
Viewer-submitted complaint: Your son’s video doesn’t make any sense at all. He’s not even talking about anything even remotely relevant to the original ad. He must a gay couple kid.The kids that i went to school with, from gay parents, tend to be really messed up. I guess the gays and liberals don’t care about teaching children what’s right. But then, they never did.
Wow, it’s like you’re peering into my soul. You know exactly what I’m like. It’s kind of creepy.
Is it really time to sign up for soccer again?
Last year, I had the best soccer team ever. Yellow team rules. It’s the best team ever. And I am the goaltender. I am the best at stopping goals on my whole team.
One time I couldn’t reach the ball, so I just pushed it up and kept it out of the goal. And it went right over the net. Whohoo! And everyone cheered for me. Yippee!
And I had a great team. They scored lots of goals, because the other goaltenders were not as good as me. And sometimes we pwned the other teams.
From Michael
Whoopie!
I made whoopie pies this afternoon.
This snack is one of those things you just take for granted until you realise it’s only available in one small corner of the world. I suppose scrunchins and muqtuq are like that, too. Toronto hipsters, think about the sushi at the tiny little restaurant that’s so authentic you don’t dare tell anyone it exists.
Whoopie pies are a Maine treat: two fat chocolate cookies with a thick layer of white frosting between them. I hesitate to compare them to Oreos, but that’s probably the easiest way for you to get a sense of what they are. My mom used to make them from time to time, but they were always for sale at the Governor’s in Bangor and at the little bakery that was just around the corner from my grandmother’s house in Dexter. I loved whoopie pies when I was a kid. I still love them.
I need to find the right recipe: if you have one, let me know. The ones I made today weren’t fat enough, and the filling wasn’t thick enough. Still, they’re pretty tasty, and they remind me of home.
“Most people don’t have the freedom of speaking the truth”
Reader-submitted complaint: You suck. I won’t censor anons. The beauty of this whole inter-web thing is that with anonymity there can be intelligent, thoughtful discussion without inhibition or fear of repercussion from employers, religious or secular groups or just plain angry town folk.
For all of my references to “you suck”, I do believe this is the first time anyone has actually used that phrase here on the blog. You really know how to charm a gal. 🙂
I really, really wish I agreed with you. I want to think that’s true. I really want to believe that anonymity frees us to have a more open discussion about matters of public interest. And in some ways, I do think that: I love to read anonymous blogs. These are sites that are run under pseudonyms, but they’re maintained diligently. For example, Townie Bastard‘s real name isn’t important, because in the blogosphere, he consistently presents himself as Townie Bastard. The other detail that I think is important is that he’s not claiming to have any sort of special expertise: if he was posting inside information or unusual tips, we might want some proof that he actually knows what he’s talking about.
Anonymous comments, on the other hand, seem to have very little value, and it pains me to say so. I’m not talking about folks like Scribe or She of Many: they consistently use those handles and that’s totally fine with me. No, I’m really talking about cowards who somehow believe they’re anonymous. (I’ve always thought this was funny, but it’s less amusing to my readers, who can’t see who these guys are and have admonished me off the blog for publishing the garbage of the Internet.) They show up, hoping to get their shots in without having to get any back or take any responsibility for their statements. One “writer” I’d mocked showed up and tried to find the barbs that would really, really bother me: “Are you still working in journalism?” (OH NO! I AM UTTERLY DESTROYED! MEMBERS OF THE PUBLIC HAVE NO ABILITY TO CRITICISE “WRITERS”!)
Anonymous commenters rarely have anything to add to the conversation. They can sometimes crack me up, though. The person who accused me of not caring about my community thought I didn’t know who he was. (I LOVE it when people move north and decide after being here for a month that they care much more about local issues than any of the rest of us do.) Right now, my favourite anonymous reader-submitted complaint is FAIL. You will never be the Hoff. The stated reason for this rather harsh review: I had posted a photo of myself that did not feature pubes sticking out of the top and bottom of my shorts. This was apparently quite an oversight. (What can I say? It was a tough crowd. At least this fellow was honest about what he was looking for.)
I do understand why some people feel that they can’t say certain things. One person posted here (anonymously) that he would be fired if he said what was on his mind. I have to wonder what was on his mind that was so terrible, and why his boss is on such a power trip. Another has posted that using his real name could make it hard to find jobs in the future. My boss could not care less that I have a blog, but that might be because I don’t write about issues I deal with at work. I’m a writer: I am paid well to write about work. I know the Forces of Evil monitor this blog, hoping that I’ll say something wildly inappropriate, but I have no idea why anyone would think I’d write about work when that’s all I do all day and I’m free to explore so many other topics on my own time. (The talented and anonymous Townie has more to say about this.)
I really want to believe that you’re right about the value of anonymity, and I’ll keep an open mind. I don’t “censor” anons, but I think that if they really want to be taken seriously, they should be honest about who they are.
(!?…;–,)
Reader-submitted complaint: I am afraid of you and your grammar-correcting ways. Wait, is that hyphen supposed to be there? I am pretty sure you are judging me, but I’m NOT sure whether “judging” is spelled with an “e”. I don’t even want to tell you where my blog is, because I sometimes use run-on sentences. And I KNOW I use too many ellipses.
I have to address this. I am not really a grammar Nazi, no matter what my brothers say. Sure, I want people to write clearly, but I’m not a freak.
(I’m defining “freak” as “more extreme than I am”. This definition works well in almost any context; I highly recommend it.)
Split your infinitives and start your sentences with coordinating conjunctions; I won’t care. I don’t even know who decided that there should be “rules” about these things.
If you care about your writing, you should put in the tiniest amount of effort to use the right words, spell them correctly, and use punctuation in a way that moves your readers along instead of distracting them. But I don’t expect people to have copy editors for their blogs. Typos are no big deal. Fix them when you see them, but don’t let the little things keep you from being a writer.
I don’t get too worried about regular folks, but I do expect professional writers to be able to punctuate their sentences. And sloppy signs make my neck muscles tense up.
Sure, I’m a journalism jihadist. But I am not a grammar terrorist: I do not target civilians for political gain. You are safe.
“As a blogger myself…”
Reader-submitted complaint: …I didn’t realize there was such detailed etiquette readers had to keep in mind when posting comments to a blog.
Well, I can’t say there’s an “etiquette”.
Are there rules about comments? Maybe there are, and I’m just not aware of them. If a set of rules exists, I’d love to see it. From what I can tell, there are no rules at all, and no consensus on anything about comments, from the best way to leave them to the best way to receive them, react to them or rebut them.
I can only tell you what I respond to in a comment. I like to see a sense of humour or some thoughtfulness. That’s especially the case when the commenter may not be seen as totally objective; for example, when he is leaving a comment about himself.
I wish there were rules. I’d like to have something to point to when I’m not sure whether something’s appropriate. The other day, I was talking about this with a friend who’s a former journalist. Since I used to select letters to the editor and listener Talkback, I’m not sure why I feel like things are different online. If I was editing a newspaper or magazine and received many letters from a single individual, all making the same point, I wouldn’t feel that I had to publish all of them. And yet, I will sometimes get comment after comment from the same person, and think I ought to publish them all. (“YOU SUCK!” “YOU STILL SUCK!” “EVEN AFTER ALL THIS TIME, YOU’RE SUCKTASTIC!”)
I won’t pretend there’s an etiquette that people should follow. I can only give tips about how to win me over. Other folks might have different standards.
Reflections in the Snow-Covered Hills 
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