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Yes, I’m fully aware that I’ve used the word “ass” in my title two days in a row.
Tomorrow The Summer of Love continues with SJ as my guest poster.
Many thanks to Sarah over at Sad and Beautiful World for being my guest on yesterday’s SecondHand Radio. We talked about photography, Internet dating, and how messed up her garden is. It was a lot of fun. You can download the show if you missed it, or find it in iTunes - just search for “Secondhand Radio” and it’ll pop up in short order.
So July is supposed to be Cell Phone Courtesy Month. I find it ironic that this is the brainchild of Sprint, since they break so many courtesy rules with their fucking walkie-talkie feature. Wasn’t it bad enough before, when I had to listen to ONE side of a phone conversation everywhere I went? Now I have to listen to BOTH sides? Ugh. And that godawful chirping noise makes me want to shove the cell phone up the owner’s ass every time I hear it.
Cell Phone Courtesy Month, like many of the holidays and months we recognize, is odd to me. I mean, every single month should be Cell Phone Courtesy Month. And so many people are rude bastards when it comes to their cells that they need to have this shit drilled into their minds every single day, not just 30 of the 365 days each year.
Nevertheless, I thought I’d go over some of the things that I feel are incredibly shitty behavior when it comes to the use of cell phones. Because, as we all know, what I say goes.
WALKIE TALKIE PHONES
Let’s start with this one because I absolutely HATE this technology. I loved using walkie-talkies as a kid. It was cool to chat with your friends down the street on a walkie-talkie. That was way before cell phones. Hell, it was way before cordless phones.
But something happened to me along the way. I grew the fuck up. No matter how old you are, if you’re reading this, you are TOO OLD to be using a walkie-talkie phone. I know damn well that you can make that shit private. Do it. Now.
Unless you’re a damn telephone pole worker or on a SWAT team, there is no place in the world for your chirping walkie-talkie shit. Set your options so that nobody but you can hear the voice on the other end.
CALL WAITING
When you’re on the phone with me, *I* am the priority. Do NOT tell me, “Oh, I have another call. Hang on…” and then just zip off to leave me on hold while you answer the phone call of the person who didn’t call you FIRST. You have voicemail, let the other call go, asshat. You can talk to that person when we’re done.
HOLD
Speaking of “hold,” don’t put me on it. It’s rude. Unless you’re a neurosurgeon and you’re expecting a phone call from another neurosurgeon and you tell me at the beginning of our conversation, “Just so you know, I’m waiting for a call from a neurosurgeon, so if she calls I’ll have to let you go.” Then it’s mildly acceptable. Unless you’re having a sexual fling with aforementioned neurosurgeon, in which case you can bloody well wait until you get home so you can have video sex chat on your own time, just like normal people.
And if you absolutely MUST put me on hold, don’t make me wait more than 30 seconds. Flip over to the other call, say “I’ll call you back when I’m done talking to Karl, who is infinitely more important than you,” and get right back to me. If you make me wait more than 30 seconds, I’ll hang up. I’m not joking. I will. I’ve done it many times and I’ll do it again. You can call me back when it’s more “convenient” because I sure as hell ain’t waiting for you to get your shit together.
PUBLIC CONVERSATIONS
Pretend for a moment that you’re not the only person on the damn planet and that the people around you can actually HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING on those personal and private calls you insist on having in Wal-mart or the library or the grocery store check-out line or (for the love of God) in the fucking bathroom. Now, with that in mind, STOP TALKING.
Nobody wants to hear that you’re cramping or that you have a nasty case of crabs or that you’re getting all smoochy smoochy with your boyfriend. When you’re talking on the phone in public, take it aside to a more private place such as outside. Or your house.
Never EVER take your phone into church. Your cell phone’s “silent mode” is your friend. Use it. If your phone rings in church or the movies or the library, know that it’s perfectly acceptable for me to behead you for such a moronic offense.
BATHROOM TALK
Never. EVER. No exceptions.
When I hear a guy on a phone in a public bathroom I want to scream the sound of a thousand deaths. Even if you happen to be one of around 33% of guys who washes your hands after peeing or crapping, you certainly don’t wash YOUR PHONE.
Think about it next time you borrow someone’s cell phone. You really don’t know all the dirty places it’s been.
ON A DATE
If you’re lucky enough to go on a date with me, never EVER answer your phone while we’re on our date. Period. Again, that’s what voicemail is for.
Never EVER text to your BFF that you’re amazed at how much hotter I am in person. Never EVER LOOK at your cell phone unless we happen to break down on the side of the road in my awesome Mitsubishi Galant. Because, really, I have no freaking idea what to do with my car, other than put gas in it on occasion.
Seriously, ignore your phone on dates. It’s totally rude not to. The person you’re with should be the sole receiver of your attention for however long the date lasts.
The fact that I have to say that is just amazing to me. But I’ve had more than one date say “Just a moment” a dozen times only so they can text someone. Fuck that.
TEXTING
Right, texting. In general, you just shouldn’t do it unless you’re by yourself. It’s rude to those hanging with you. There are exceptions, of course. BrittCon, for example, where we were trying to coordinate meetings with half of New York City. But if you’re at dinner with friends, again, LEAVE THE FUCKING PHONE ALONE.
RING TONES
Don’t do it. Really. Don’t. They’re wrong. It’s bad enough that I have to hear phones chirping and ringing every other nanosecond I’m out of my house. But to hear the fucking Macarena or The Sopranos theme song or any other song that you somehow think is “cute and witty” makes me want to give you a Colombian necktie.
Yes, even the personalized ringtones that you’ve selected to play whenever *I* call you. Wrong.
Besides, if you’re stupid enough to pay $3 for a 20-second clip of music, I probably don’t want to talk to you, anyway.
DIALING WHILE DRIVING
Again, scary this needs mentioning, but don’t do it. Unless you have voice dialing or some other mode of hands-free communication, pay attention to the road, please. And you should NEVER text while driving, you moron.
HEADSETS
Are only for use when you are making or receiving a call. Dave is right on this, for sure. Wearing a bluetooth headset all day long in case you receive a call is absolutely retarded. Really, I won’t talk to you if you’re wearing one of those things. How do I know you’re not talking to someone else? Plus, it’s just embarrassing to be seen with you.
STOP SCREAMING
Would you please talk at a normal speaking volume when you call me? Stop the screaming. Unless I’m in an airport gate with 10 delayed flights worth of people in 3rd world conditions and can’t hear a damn thing, you’re not helping me by yelling. And if YOU’RE in a hard-to-hear environment, screaming at me is just as effective as talking loudly when you discover someone is blind.
COMMON SENSE
It all comes down to common sense, really. Courtesy and manners. Treat me like you would want to be treated. No, scratch that. Treat me like the god I am and we’ll get along fine.
Break these rules at your own risk. I’ll totally rip that fucking phone out of your hands and throw it in the toilet. And half of you would probably pick the damn thing out of the muck and keep on talking.
Filed under Rants, Web/Tech | Comments (41)
First of all, I found this little quizzie thing at Nina’s place. Which Marvel superhero are you?
Met Nina on the radio shows over the last week. If there’s any good to come of all the drama this past week, it’s that I met some cool people. Anyway, here’s the quiz and my results:
Find out Which Marvel Superhero Are You at LiquidGeneration.com!
Yeah, buddy! Spiderman!
Right, on to the jury duty story. FINALLY.
So last month, as you probably know, while I was in Dallas on vacation I received a jury summons for the Federal District Court here in Florida. The district happens to have five counties under its jurisdiction, and Highlands County (where I live) is by far the farthest county from the courthouse itself. But as I found out, it IS in the district.
I’ve had one jury summons before this. It was when I lived in Dallas and I went in for a day but never got picked for the jury. This time was different. First, it was in a FEDERAL court, not a county court. Secondly, I DID get picked to be on a jury during a trial.
The summons included information, saying that we couldn’t bring ANY electronic devices into the courthouse with us. No laptops, no PDAs, no cell phones, no Gameboys or iPods…nothing. Understandable. They don’t want you (1) communicating with the outside world during a trial, or (2) researching stuff on the Internet about the case, or (3) being distracted with your Nintendo DS when you’re supposed to be paying attention to the case.
Also, jurors get paid $40 per day of service AND they get 49 cents per mile to help pay for gasoline. They calculate the distance between the courthouse and your home post office and THAT’S the mileage they use.
I was required to be “on call” for jury duty starting last Monday, the 9th. That meant calling into the jury hotline every night after 5:30pm to see if my presence was required the next morning. On Monday, I wasn’t needed. I kind of hoped it would stay that way, but Monday night when I called, they told me to show up the next morning. So I quickly threw a bunch of stuff into a suitcase and left for my sister’s house in Boca Raton. That’s still 90 minutes from the courthouse in Fort Pierce, but it’s a lot closer than MY house.
Here now are some notes I took my first day in the courthouse:
So even though the hotline said we COULD bring cell phones into the court, this guy opened up the front door and said, “If you have a phone, put it back in your car.” DAMMIT! I’m having to rely on antiquated pen and paper. Oh well.
Right now I’m in the Jury Assembly Room. After going through the metal detector thingie to make sure I’m not packing heat or anything as dangerous as nail clippers, we’re all waiting here in the assembly room. There’s around 25-30 people from all over a five-county area, each waiting to contribute to the American Justice System.
My bro-in-law, Rob, is a deputy in Palm Beach so I don’t know if that’ll have any bearing in my serving on a jury.
Right, now they’re checking us in by scanning the barcode on our summons. And now we’re going to watch a movie. Movie is incredibly cheesy, but it talks all about the jury process. I’m in trouble. Movie says that all I’m required to bring into the court room is my common sense. Uh oh. Is my common sense worth $40/day and 49 cents/mile? Hmm.
They gave us Juror badges to wear and the clerk filled us in on the details of our service. No talking to ANYONE about the case while the case is underway. Not the judge, not the lawyers, not the plaintiff or defendant, not EACH OTHER. Period.
Clerk called 50 people to serve today and only 35 showed. Those people have balls, not showing up. We’re talking Federal court here. That’s probably a Federal offense, ignoring a summons.
I’m on the first jury panel of 20 people. They start with a panel of 20 people and whittle it down to the jury they need for the case. I think I’m officially “Juror #2.” We’ll see what happens once we go to the court room.
I was thinking they’d provide us lunch, but no. We get an hour (at least) to go off and eat across the street. Or wherever.
I’m wearing a t-shirt I got from Think Geek, which says: “You read my t-shirt. That’s enough social interaction for one day.” Oops, I didn’t read the small print on my summons which says that you should wear “business casual” clothing. No jeans or t-shirts. I showed up in both. Oh well.
1:45pm - So yeah, I’m on a jury. It’s a civil case and I’m hoping it’s done today. It involves - well, can’t really say yet. By FEDERAL LAW. (Ed. Note: Now I can say that it involved a prison inmate who was suing two correctional officers for excessive use of force.)
There are nine jurors. First they took the 20 of us into the courtroom and went about selecting the jury. We each stood up in turn, announced our name, what we did for a living, and whether we had any relatives in law enforcement. That didn’t seem to have any bearing, though. Yeah, the plaintiff and defense lawyers each picked three jurors to excuse, but I’m not sure what the rhyme or reason was for dismissing those people.
The judge asked us other questions like whether we’d ever been involved in a lawsuit, whether or not we’d be impartial in regards to both sides of the case, etc. One woman had to be excused because her husband had to start dialysis.
Other than that, no major drama involved. It IS an interesting case and I wish I knew how the other jurors are leaning but again, we can’t talk about it until the evidence is all presented and we’re sent to the Jury Deliberation Room.
I also discovered that they would have put me up in a hotel because I live outside a 50-mile radius of the courthouse. Thanks for telling me that…now.
Went to a cafe for lunch, had a chicken salad sandwich and fries. No drinks allowed in the courtroom, by the way, dammit. Coffee would be nice because the pacing is rather slow in court.
OK, so that’s all I wrote in my little notebook. Wasn’t allowed to bring THAT in the courtroom, either.
So the basics of the case. Again, a prison inmate was bringing a lawsuit (civilly) against two correctional officers for excessive use of force. Because it was a CIVIL lawsuit and not a CRIMINAL trial, the inmate didn’t have a lawyer. He was representing himself because he just couldn’t afford an attorney. In a criminal case, he would have been provided an attorney.
The two defendants had two lawyers, of course. And four witnesses, including the two correctional officers. The plaintiff had nothing. Aside from his OWN testimony, so yeah, the odds were stacked against him from the start. Unlike a criminal case, in a civil case, the burden of proof rests with the plaintiff. In other words, he had to prove to the jury that excessive force had been used against him. And that proved to be impossible.
To make a long story a teeny bit shorter, here’s what the inmate claimed. He had gotten to that prison five days before “the incident.” He was written up (in what is called a Disciplinary Report, or “D.R.”) for walking outside of the yellow lines on the way out of chow. Yeah, they’re required to walk between two yellow lines in certain places in the prison compound. I guess it’s to keep things orderly.
He claimed that the officer who told him to get inside the lines was harassing him. The officer said, “You want harassment? I’m writing you up.” Then, because the inmate now had a D.R. pending review, he was supposed to be taken to “disciplinary confinement,” which is a separate “dorm area” than general population.
He was escorted by the officer to the “C Dorm,” where confinement takes place. It’s NOT solitary, it’s just separate from general population. As he entered the C Dorm, he claims that the housing supervisor, a correctional sergeant in charge of the C Dorm, then jacked him up against a chain link fence and grabbed him around his throat. He was told that he was going to have a cell-mate, and the inmate complained about it. He said that he didn’t WANT a cellmate that he didn’t know because he was afraid for his life.
Keep in mind that this guy has been in prison since 1992 in various institutions around Florida. AND that he’d only gotten to THIS prison five days prior, so he really didn’t KNOW anyone, really. The only time that the prison officials put you in your OWN cell without a cellmate is if you’re either in protective custody OR you’re handicapped.
So the sergeant supposedly roughed the inmate up. Then they escorted the inmate up the stairs to his new cell. There were four officers up there, along with the inmate and ANOTHER inmate, who was supposed to be bunking with him. So Smith (yeah, that’s the inmate’s last name) is told to get in the cell. He refuses several times, standing directly in the cell doorway so that nobody else could enter the cell. Again, he’s saying he doesn’t WANT a cellmate. He CLAIMS that he requested “protective management” (custody).
The sergeant then calls the Officer-in-Charge (OIC), who is a Captain in charge of the entire prison during the night shift. The Captain shows up a few minutes later, tells the inmate to get in the fucking cell, and Smith refuses yet again. So the Captain SHOVES Smith into the cell, then pushes him up (hard) against the wall and says, “I don’t CARE what you fucking want. You will obey me when I give you an order, motherfucker.”
Mind you, during all of this, Smith is handcuffed behind his back.
They secure the cell door, and DON’T give him a cellmate that night. Smith gets in touch with the nurse who wanders through the dorm, making rounds, and asking if anyone has any medical issues. He says he wants to go to medical for a “post-use-of-force” exam, and he is escorted to medical.
He tells the nurse all of the things that have happened. She makes note of it all on the report. He claims that he has bruises and cuts on his arms and neck. Well, there are red marks on his neck, but no actual bruises. And he claims that it hurts to swallow.
THAT is the incident in a nutshell. As far as Smith is concerned.
The OFFICERS all claim that while some of Smith’s testimony is accurate, they differ wildly. They say that - aside from placing their hands on Smith’s arms while escorting him up the stairs to his cell - they never TOUCHED Smith. They say Smith incessantly resisted the process all the way from the chow line to his cell. And that’s THEIR story in a nutshell.
Here are more ways in which Smith had shit stacked against his favor. It was made clear (through the defense lawyer’s cross examination of Smith after his testimony) that he is a terminal griever. In other words, he has filed grievances over 200 times since his incarceration. Two HUNDRED times. Yeah, that doesn’t look good. He has filed grievances after all THIRTY of the D.R.s he has received, claiming that every single one of the disciplinary reports was fabricated. And he has filed well over 80 lawsuits against the Florida Department of Corrections. Again, not looking good.
However, I will say that I found Smith a lot more credible than the officers. He was quite soft-spoken, far more intelligent than all of the correctional officers, and I found him to be very forthcoming about not only all of the grievances and lawsuits he’s filed over the years, but about his own resistance toward following *some* rules.
It was almost painful to watch him represent himself in court. You’d think after all the experience he’s had in court with these lawsuits he’s filed that he would be much better prepared and know how the fuck the system works. He was constantly being “objected” to by the defense and most of the time those objections were sustained by the judge.
I think I could just about be a lawyer after those two days in court. All you have to do is occasionally speak into the microophone and say things like: “Objection: hearsay” or “Objection: relevance” or “Objection: the plaintiff is a big fat liar.”
There were numerous inconsistencies in the defense witnesses’ testimonies. I caught them all and it was very clear to me from nearly the beginning that there was a massive cover-up going on by the officers. I have NO doubt that there WAS force used against Smith. I know that correctional officers (and it doesn’t take much to become one, by the way) KNOW how to use force against people and not leave a mark.
And there’s the “brown wall of silence.” The Florida Department of Corrections officers wear brown uniforms. So much like there is in the military or in police departments all over the place, officers stick together and back each other up all the way. No ratting each other out.
Smith asked the first officer directly if he’d heard of “The Brown Wall of Silence” and the officer claimed ignorance. BULLSHIT. Total fucking lie.
Now, this event happened THREE years ago. Each of these officers clearly prepped for the trial, understandable, by reading the old reports and getting familiar with everything again. I’m sure they face incidents every day, so again, there’s no way they could remember all the details WITHOUT reviewing all the documentation.
But every officer made it very clear that they remembered all the details very well. So when the housing sergeant claimed he didn’t recall Smith ever leaving his cell after the incident to go to medical, I again called BULLSHIT. The housing officer knows ALL the comings and goings of the inmates into his dorm during his shift.
And Smith provided the medical report, which PROVED he was in medical after the incident. It was time-stamped and everything.
The problem was with the defense’s last witness: the nurse who examined Smith after the supposed use of force. She wrote down all of Smith’s details, what he claimed happened, yes, but she ALSO wrote that she couldn’t find a single thing wrong with him. EXCEPT for one small half-centimeter abrasion on his elbow.
I could name a hundred different inconsistencies, but suffice it to say that *I* felt the officers were guilty. In the deliberation room, I was the ONLY one who felt that way out of 9 total jurors. I voiced my rationale, that I KNEW there was a cover-up going on, and WHY I knew there was a cover-up. Other jurors agreed with me that SOMEthing had happened.
BUT. We were there to decide on this case, and in doing so, we had to be able to say there was PROOF of excessive use of force. Not just that there was FORCE being used - which is entirely justified many times in prison - but EXCESSIVE use of force.
I had to agree that there was no such evidence. The nurse was the most credible of ALL the witnesses, and she really put the nail in the coffin. Plus, she was the only person that didn’t (as the defense attorney said) “have a dog in the fight,” since she was no longer employed by the prison and had nothing to gain by lying about anything.
So we took barely an hour to deliberate. Most of the jurors felt that Smith was a paranoid lying sack of shit who was just looking to get out of prison for a couple of days. I disagreed (and still do). “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that people AREN’T out to get you,” I said. And I could see no gain for Smith to lie. He wasn’t going to get out of prison - we were told during the trial that he had no release date, though we were NOT told why he was in prison in the first place. Even if he WON and got monetary damages, how the hell was he going to ENJOY the money in prison?
Regardless, we found for the defendants. I feel justice was served because we ruled the way we ruled because that’s the way the law works. Even though I believe he was telling the truth, Smith had no evidence other than his testimony.
I WISH that after the verdict was read in the courtroom that I could have stood up and said, “OK, just because we found for the defendants, that doesn’t mean you pulled the fucking wool over our eyes. We KNOW shit went down. It just can’t be proved.” But there are no qualifying statements allowed in the verdict. It’s yay or nay. Period.
The other point I raised in the deliberation room was that, while it looked bad that Smith had filed over 200 grievances, that doesn’t mean that SOME of his grievances and complaints weren’t TRUE. Or that this particular lawsuit and his allegations weren’t TRUE.
I think he told the truth. I think the officers lied. And I also think that if Smith didn’t request protective custody ON THE WAY BACK TO PRISON he’s a fucking moron, because that guy has to go BACK to prison with those officers. And you know he’s going to get some serious shit for all this.
I found it a very interesting experience, jury duty. I’m glad I was able to serve and I learned a lot. I also found it frustrating that things are so black-and-white in the law, and that there was no way to punish the officers for their bullshit. I do NOT believe that prisoners should have a freaking country club experience in prison. Not at all. But I DO believe that they still have rights afforded to them by the Constitution, among those is the right to be free of cruel and unusual punishment.
Anyway, I’m glad that we weren’t told what Smith was in prison for. Not that it would have changed my mind, but when I got home I googled the guy. Amongst the many, MANY lawsuits I saw on the results page, I went to the Florida Department of Corrections site and searched for his name. His picture came up and so did the charges that brought him to prison.
He is a convicted child molester. Several cases of molesting a child under 12 years of age, and one case of abusing someone under the age of 16. Ugh.
I’m glad he’s not getting out of prison. He’s 58 years old and I hope he stays there for good.
But again, that wouldn’t have changed my mind about the case. It certainly has bearing, however, on how fucking scared Smith must be in prison because child molesters are NOT treated well by inmates. Ever.
There, that’s the story. Finally.
Filed under Local Goings On, Rants | Comments (35)
Ladies and gentlemen, I love you all dearly…well, most of you, anyway. But I find myself yet again feeling physically and emotionally drained for the multipleth time in the last several days.
And I find myself passing my typical midnight deadline with nary a word published. That shall not continue, I assure you. I LIKE having my posts ready to automatically publish at midnight. It’s neat and clean and predictable, which is virtually unlike me in every way now that I think about it.
And yeeeees, I’m going to talk about “it” again, and I’m not sure as I write this just how much I’m going to say about it. Suffice it to say that I have had more traffic to my blog in the last couple of days than I have EVER had before, and it’s all because of something that truly has nothing to do with me. At least not in any conventional way.
I don’t know why or how, but I somehow became a central point in the whole shitstorm nexus that has become the Fab/Turnbaby Event…because let’s face it, that’s what it’s become, an EVENT. It’s MORE than a happening, I fucking guarantee you that. I don’t believe that I have ever seen such monumental publicity and such ungaugeably huge fervor outside the mainstream media. And I’m not using hyperboles lightly here.
Yesterday, despite his earlier post that he’d be taking a hiatus for a while, Fab posted on his blog. You can read the post and the subsequent comments for yourself, of course, but to say that a huge brouhaha arose from that post is comparable to saying that a blue whale has a somewhat moderate pecker size.
I have YET to catch up on blogs from my 3-day Internet absence, so I’m sure I haven’t even touched the surface of what’s out there in the blogiverse. But from the posts I HAVE read, and the comments I’ve read, I am truly dumbfounded. TRULY. Most of all, I think I’m shocked and appalled at my own personal investment into the issue. I don’t know WHY I care so fucking much that I spent yesterday eating, breathing, and belching the Fab/Turnbaby twister.
I spent WELL OVER - and as Belinda is keen to say, I swear I’m not making this up, you can Google it - NINE HOURS on the phone in the last 24 hours. And that’s including my epic sleeping and nap schedule.
And yes, I took part in the comment storm on aforementioned post. I fully cop to it. I own my shit, no matter how nasty it may be. But I also maintain my stance. I back up every single word I have said about this matter, whether that be my blog posts, my comments to other blog posts, the radio show(s) that have come out the last several days…whatever. I stand behind my words, and I think I proved to a few naysayers that I have not said ANYTHING in ANY of those venues that I would not (and have not) said to Fab and Turnbaby directly.
In fact, I SPOKE with Turnbaby on the phone last night for over 2-1/2 hours. I will NOT be sharing the bulk of what we talked about because that wouldn’t be appropriate. I will say (and I think she’d be comfortable with me saying this) that she is incredibly upset and heartbroken. It is very clear to me (and I had no doubt about this before I spoke to her directly) that her feelings for Fab are sincere and earnest, and she still cares a very great deal for him.
I will say that the press release that was made on Blog Talk Radio was NOT Turnbaby’s doing. She went along with it because that’s what Fab wanted to do. It was there that they announced their engagement. That was on June 1, two weeks ago.
I will say that Turnbaby almost seems to care more about how Fab is doing than her own well-being. She loves him that much. In fact, she’s extremely upset about how people are seeing Fab, and how some people are ridiculing Fab…all this coming from a woman who has in the last 48 hours been called a harlot, a tramp, a whore, and many many worse things than that.
This is the part where I once again feel the need to state my position on something. (As if we’re all not fucking tired enough of my rhetoric to begin with.) These are REAL people involved here. They’re not play-time people, they’re not “The Sims.” Real people, real actions, real emotions. As always, I encourage and I welcome anything and everything anyone has to say. I mean it. You are always welcome at my blog and you’re always welcome to speak up. (Well, except for YOU, maybe.)
Where I DRAW THE LINE (here on MY space, anyway, which is the only place I can truly dictate the terms) is when it starts getting to be a personal attack. It bothers some people whenever there are “anonymous” comments on blogs, but that doesn’t bug me so much. It’s the NAMECALLING I don’t like. And I’m not saying I’m immune to it. I may very well have said something in anger, off the cuff, at times. But AGAIN…and this is from YEARS of way-too-much therapy…say how you FEEL and you can never be wrong. Start everything with “I don’t like” or “I like” or “I’m hurt” or “I’m pissed” or “I’m exhausted.” The “I Statements” really help keep things clear.
And I also want to say this. It’s one thing to slam a particular behavior or decision; it’s another thing entirely to slam a PERSON. To wish someone ill, no matter where you may stand on any of the myriad of issues surrounding this Event, is fucking evil. I seriously hope that those of you trolls who are laughing their asses off at this shit and sending vicious flaming emails to these REAL people get a case of crotchrot that breaks all of historical crotchrot records.
Turnbaby is NOT a whore. She’s not. I am a very good judge of character (most of the time) and I spent a LONG time with her on the phone last night. She’s not a bitch, though I have no doubt that I wouldn’t ever want to cross her, and she doesn’t deserve to be viciously and brutally beaten verbally.
And if you’re reading this and I’ve talked with you at all on the phone or on Jester’s radio show, I’m not talking about YOU. I’m literally talking about trolls, evil little beings that seem to feed on misery and sorrow as if it was the most scrumptious and glorious food ever created. YOU? Yeah, the closest I come to hatred? THAT’S how I feel about you. Go back to your holes and feed on some other lot, will you? And impale yourself on a large spiked and barbed section of rebar. And maybe get anally raped by satan from here until eternity, or until Oprah goes off the air, whichever comes second.
As for those of you that believe that everyone outside of Fab, Turnbaby, and Mrs. Fab has no right to be upset, and certainly has no right to express our feelings and frustrations and anger and every other emotion we’re going through…tough fucking shit. I respectfully disagree with you.
There’s a difference in my mind between readership and friendship. Most of you are READERS of Fab’s, let’s face it. I don’t put myself in that category. I am a fan of Pointless Drivel, yes, but I’m MORE than that. At least I FEEL like I am. I may be wrong about that. That’s in Fab’s hands. Regardless, I am far more emotionally invested in Mr. Fabulous - well, let’s say it, in BRAD, because there IS a difference between Brad and Mr. Fabulous - than a mere READER. I have conversed with Brad, I have exchanged many an email with him over the last several years, we’ve traded stories and blogging advice and he’s always been most kind to me regarding questions I have about Blog Talk Radio…we’ve been on each other’s shows. I wouldn’t do that with ANYONE…I mean, that there are a select few folks I can say that about.
But, dammit, I have feelings and you’re damn right that anything that’s affecting me THIS profoundly (no matter what the rhyme or reason of it) is GOING to be coming out my mouth or my fingertips, and very likely BOTH. However, unlike some people, I am (for the most part) rather cautious and judicious in my remarks. Because, yes, like it or not, my identity extends INTO my blog, into my emails, into my comments, into virtually every aspect of my online life. And because I want to be able to stand behind anything I’m quoted as saying, to say, “Yes, I said that, and I don’t regret it.”
Granted, I’m not always successful at that, but I truly try my best to live up to it. And when I fail (and I do, every day) I’ll always be the first to say, “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
The shit train needs to stop. I’m not saying it’s going to stop today, or even any time soon. It will cease in and of its own volition, as soon as the next big drama in the blogiverse erupts. And then we’ll all be moving along to a whole new set of drums. After all the dust settles, then the Event will fade away. Except for Brad, Liz, and Linda. They’ll still be there, navelgazing and recovering. And yes, Liz’ spouse, too (I have NOT forgot about him, much as some people think).
But here’s the thing: I KNOW Brad. I KNOW Liz. They are my only connections to this drama. I don’t really know the other parties involved…at *all*. So that’s why 99.9% of my comments are in regards to Brad and Liz. I am unqualified to speak of things of which I do not know. (Yes, I’m entirely aware that this is somewhat ironic, as I don’t KNOW a great deal of things surrounding the Event.) But what I DO know, and that’s mostly how I FEEL about this, well, THAT I feel qualified to talk about.
I just wish that the unintelligent people would shut the fuck up and leave those of us who aren’t and are trying to PROCESS THIS CRAP alone. And for the love of God, if you don’t want to READ the shitstorm, then shut off your damn computer and stay the hell away. Why the hell make yourself miserable?
Huh.
I just realized that I can’t answer that question myself.
Filed under 2HT Mentions, Blogging, Local Goings On, Rants, Sex, Weblogs | Comments (42)
