|The final frontier of weird.|
Of course I always knew people were complete fucksticks on the internet. And why not? Anonymity is the perfect recipe for courage. Give any geek a laptop, an avatar, a bottle of vodka, the safety of their parents’ basement, and a blanket to furiously masturbate into and they become invincible. I learned this first hand in the comments section of my first article published on Cracked.com, where I was called everything from a bad writer to a botched abortion. I feared the same fate on Amazon after my recent fiction debut, but as no one has bothered to buy, read, or review it I really dodged a Constitutionally-protected bullet there.
This trend of raging asshattery seems slightly less sadistic via social networking, where namelessness and facelessness are checked at the log in screen. (Because none of us would EVER have evil alter egos, that shit’s prohibited. Geez.) Facebook fuckery tends to be generally reserved for outlandish political rants, shitty stereotypes, religious bigotry and bible thumping, or Heston help us: cute little gun control memes.
|Are you fucking serious?!?|
Those that are constantly guilty of the above crimes against civility tend not to last long in my virtual life. I don’t give a flatulent fuck about your First Amendment right to spout off nonsensically about your Second Amendment right; I’m citing a much more recent legal document, The Facebook User Agreement, to justify blocking your annoying ass so I don’t have to constantly browse past your bullshit.
My point in all this (yes, I did have one all along) is that I experienced an unexpected backlash of butthurtedness when I decided to shut down the Turd Mountain Facebook page. While it was a fun little outhouse for me for the past year or so, with recent changes in my life free time has become a rare commodity and I’d rather spend it writing poop jokes that exceed the character limit of your basic e-card.
I received three death threats—yes, DEATH THREATS, over it. One person even said they wished I’d be taken out by a drunk driver, which seemed awfully specific. I’m wondering if there’s some guy slamming a bottle of whiskey behind the wheel of his rusted out Ford pickup truck (I can’t imagine he’d drive anything else) parked somewhere in my city, just daring me to cross a street. Well joke’s on him, because it’s fucking cold outside and I’m not going ANYWHERE.
I was called a “stupid cunt whore,” which I thought was interesting. While I’m not actively involved in the world’s oldest profession, I believe this description would actually make me quite smart and business savvy, as I don’t think any other orifice on my body would have the stamina to pound out a decent living that way.
I didn’t bother to report any of the death threats or harassment, not only because I didn’t take them seriously but also because it would probably be worth the loss of my life for the headline: Purveyor of Poop Puns Slain Over Sudden E-Card Shortage.
In case I didn’t have enough to worry about, now I have to wonder if the next time I step outside a gang of PETE activists– People for the Ethical Treatment of Excrement, of course—will be waiting to douse me with manure if they see me post anything feces-free.
Honestly, I’m quite possibly the most insecure person you’ll ever not meet-- but calling me names and threatening me with bodily harm from the safety of a computer screen doesn’t pack quite the punch you think it does. EVEN IF YOU USE ALL CAPS. If you want to get to me, go for the throat – ask if I've put on a few pounds, poke fun at my crooked nose and boyish figure, tell me my work flat out sucks– but not my decision to take down a Facebook page I no longer have time for. Morons. It’s like the people who harass others on the internet for shits and grins have never dealt with a real woman before. Oh… never mind.
Anyway, the Turd Mountain fan page is dead…. but if you want to read more directionless diarrhea like this, be sure to give Dee’s Nuts a “like.” All hate mail and threats of bodily harm will be forwarded there also, as they give me something to laugh at while I’m taking a crap.