“Basically, what you’re saying is that sniffing glue wrecks your brain? That’s common knowledge, you didn’t have to bother.”
One of the great things about WordPress is that it has a pretty good spam filter and weeds out a lot of nonsensical messages, usually linking back to some sort of Viagra or other obvious spam site. I didn’t think too much of it and let this rather odd message go, especially when it was linked to an account called “Fake”, via the email address of one William Doherty.
A little while later, the spam filter trapped another message from aforementioned Mr Doherty:
Submitted on 2011/03/30 at 9:30 am
“I must say I’m bitterly disappointed that you decided to delete my earlier post. Denying the problem you have is not the solution. You should speak to someone you trust about your glue problem, perhaps it’s not to late for help!
Followed up with this elegant little haikuish missive:
Submitted on 2011/03/30 at 10:45 am
I just wanted to help you but it seems you’ve already gone too far.
Noticing an abnormal spike of interest in a very brief post I hadn’t put much thought into (flash reflex game Chess Without Turns), I found it linked back to a thread where the people seem terribly interested in this little blog and extremely upset if I don’t like the same things they do. Yes, I don’t believe that beating an RPG boss makes you any more clever than beating an FPS boss makes you tough. It’s a freaking video game.
Not that these terribly upset fans of turn-based games inspire much beyond a weary eyeroll at this point, because if there’s anyone disappointed, it’s me.
I’m quite comfortable with Everett True being a better writer than me: this is why he’s famous. I’m just a little disappointed that he gets to have better “fans” than me. I mean, the last time I heard someone accusing someone else of sniffing glue was I think Harmony in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and she never had the best lines.
Compare that to this little gem:
Hey you little dips*** wipe … Hell has a f***ing hand basket for you. Everett True dumbass. You are a cartoon character. Why do you hate Dolores so much? You pompous english f***? What happened? Got kicked out of your own country for being a dick so you decided to hit the seattle grunge scene? Ooooh, you introduced cobain to love … two f***ing god damn losers who ain’t s*** today … no t’anks to you. You know all these people in the industry, but how the f*** did you end up being a f***ing journalist? “I do not consider myself a journalist”, you say. You f***ing pompous idiot … why? because journalists are beneath you?
Give us a reason instead of trying to sond cool in your author’s spotlight. Why do you hate Dollores so much, f*** face? Because she has the ability to see the evil son of a bitch in you and will have not’ing to do wit’ you? You may have pulled the wool over Curt and courtney’s eyes, but Dolores is wa-ay to shrewed for a failed musician turned journalist – excuse me, “music critic” like you because it is what you do. If you t’ink that sounds cool, then you are a straight loser. Everyone has the ability to critic, asshole. So Dolores wouldn’t let you near her, huh? Because everyt’ing about you is a fascade. I read your whole bio and you sound like a loser wit’ his ego cut of … “Ooooh!”, you say. “I ran wit’ the big names! I shook hands wit’ the best!” I’m a critic! That’s what I do!” Tell me did you jerk off Curt cobain, too? You ain’t nobody. Dolores is a goddess. She possesses every attribute a god would possess. All the t’ings that you don’t because it seems as if not that many people believe in you, now do they? If they did … you wouldn’t just be the journalist that you are. And maybe that’s why you’re angry. Grow up, fag boy. Dolores O’Riordan Rocks!”
See, it’s passionate and inventive – the sort of invective into which Psychoboy has clearly put a lot of care and attention. Well, other than spelling his “goddess”‘s name wrong, of course. But there is the affected Irish accent in the spelling, which obviously shows considerable dedication to the craft.
Still, we both languish in the wake of book reviewer Big Al, whose critical analysis of Jacqueline Howett’s book The Greek Seaman was met with a barrage of vitriol from the author herself.
“Who are you any way? Really who are you? What do we know about you? You never downloaded another copy you liar! You never ever returned to me an e-mail”
A few irate responses later, she’d managed to prove all the criticisms Al had fairly made, and it was all downhill from there.
“You are a big rat and a snake with poisenous venom. Lots of luck to authors who come here and slip in that! Look how you are all enjoying it!”
By about her fourth response, I had my hand clamped over my mouth in disbelief. By the time she’d resorted to expletives, I was giggling uncontrollably.
By the end, I just felt rather sorry for her.
“I hope that even one of your friends is telling you STOP!” said one commenter.
Should I be teasing these proponents of rage? Probably not, but the purpose of this blog is to entertain and at least Mr Doherty and Everett True’s Psychoboy were fairly entertaining.
Ms Howett was deluded enough to dispute the accusations being leveled at her. I’ll just deny the charge of sniffing glue. Does lacking a “chess” mind put me at a disadvantage? Only if I’m in a situation where I have to think three moves ahead, which is almost never. Most problems need instant decisions, not ponderous reflection. If video games teach any real-life skills at all, then at least shooters would impart the skills necessary to survive the Zombie Apocalypse.
Wait, wasn’t that a rage virus? Then I fear the apocalypse has already begun.