April 03, 2005
it doesn't piss me of
If I had a dollar for every time somebody has sent me nasty comments, ceremoniously de-linked me and then exoriated me mercilessly on their own sanctimonious blog for something I wrote, I would have a sack full of money. Having that happen to me really didn't bother me in the least. In fact, that crap provided a lot of blog-fodder for me to fire back with.
I could go all Acidman, cuss, rant and rave, and then kick back laughing when I saw the comments on what I wrote. I was flattered that so many people hated me so badly. I always said that I wrote for a reaction, and I damn sure got some good ones back in those days.
But I've STILL never met a blogger in person that I didn't like. We may be 180-degrees apart on the political scale, and we may have even written hateful posts to each other before, but that doesn't seem to matter.
I might even bow up tell ole piss-boy here that he envies the shit out of ME because I get more traffic than he does and he speaks with a Yankee accent.
Old wimmen and frightened men back away. Fisticuffs appear inevitable. But after a couple of beers, things change. We're sittin' at the bar, bullshittin' and telling blog-stories.
After a couple of hours, we part GOOD friends. You know, a nice handshake, a firm pat on the shoulder, and the obligatory, "We should do this again." And you really intend to.
But as you walk away, you can't resist saying "I STILL think you're full of shit!"
And you hear the reply, "When you LEARN to think, I'll worry about what YOU think." You both laugh.
I've done that several times and never saw the person again. But I never regretted the expeience.
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