I occasionally get comments from readers who take exception to something I write. Usually I reply with a shrug, admitting that I don’t care what they think, that I write for me alone, and that my writing is untainted by the expectation of reaching an audience.
This isn’t a side-hustle, in other words. The reason you don’t see a sidebar is because I blog for pleasure, not profit.
So in fairness I might suggest that my infrequent critics read the other 728 posts in this decade-plus vanity project before declaring me an irredeemable asshole. I may well be an asshole, who knows, but at least their assessment would have some scientific and objective rigour about it.
But of course nobody under the age of 30 reads anything anymore, let alone 728 lonely posts. Instead, they’re happy to label me (and anybody else) on the basis of one single post, a single tweet, a random like. The explanation for this (cf. attention-span, dopamine-hit, etc.,) is obvious.
But I don’t care. Critics come with the territory, a troll under every bridge, a skeleton in every closet.
And they come in different shapes and sizes. Not all of them are trolls. A whole generation of virtue-signalers have discovered this blog, mounted their soapbox then disappeared. A legion of wound-collectors vying for victimhood have screaming for a wambulance then sulked off.
Still, I’m always surprised to see a comment, and when the comment is negative, a little dumbfounded too. Why bother, dude? Is it because my fresh critics see a manifesto where I see only post-it notes?
The trembling fury of absolute strangers shaking their fist at clouds!
The clouds don’t care, bro.
True also that many of my staunchest critics are women. I know this for a fact because of the category of post that triggers them, and by the language they use. I know that my nod to #PMAlbo after he called Grace Tame “difficult” will, for example, aggravate women and that category of male usefully derided as simps.
Because I’m difficult too. Difficult insofar as I won’t allow the feminazi commentariat to elide unrelated issues for political points. Take Albo’s description of Tame as difficult: He did not say all women are difficult. Didn’t even imply it. Yet the banshees instantly conflated his comment as a slur against “warrior women” who “speak to power”.
Bull. Shit.
But also a missed opportunity, ladies! Why not roar that Albo’s “gaslighting women” too? I mean, he’s a man so he’s probably a grapist and a PDFile too, right?
Here’s a difficult opinion I’ve voiced before: Grace Tame’s signature scowl is all about optics. She’ll be parachuted into a safe Greens seat ahead of her bid for the Senate. Until then, expect to see Grace at every rent-a-rally getting apoplectic over the next trending issue.
Now, if saying this marks me out as difficult, your intolerance-threshold is way too low. If you’re thinking of dragging me for it, double-check your hypocrisy first. How many dodgy Instagram likes did YOU drop back in 2010? Never forget that doxxing is the Damoclean sword that cuts both ways.
I don’t curate this blog for your consumption, so if it tastes sour/bitter/sweet/sickly to you, remember that I do not give a shit, but your comments are always welcome.