CCC (Conrad’s Code of Conduct)

Conrad, let me scratch your itch.

Your last entry is truly inspired. You jump around like a flea on speed.

First of all: Don’t insult those who take time and trouble answering on your blog. As is his prerogative, a friend of mine doesn’t allow comments on his blog, rather ruthlessly weeding them (even mine –  though he loves me as much as a gay man can love a straight woman).  I don’t think his being so picky commendable but at least he sticks to his guns and, being in the public eye, he has to be careful which cannon to let loose on his blog.

Conrad, Conrad, Conrad, if you were my brother I’d tell you to stop making such a fool of yourself: “Of course … that doesn’t mean that my posts themselves may not have an edge!  They will not be aimed at any reading membership, therefore I feel no constraint there.  Otherwise, how could I initiate play in the first”. Conrad, if your posts are not aimed at your readers then who are they aimed at? And if this is your idea of initiating play I do not wish to attend your kindergarten. It might stunt my growth.

“My responses will be gentle for rough, though, because I have found through a series of recent stinging rebukes from a friend that my personal sense of humor does not always play well in Peoria.” Gentle for rough? What are you talking about ? Why not take the rough with the smooth instead? Sense of humour is always personal.  Do you have an allergy to getting ‘stung’? When out in the wild you will get stung, sometimes bitten, rarely mauled. Where is Peoria? And ‘play’, my dear Conrad, you do NOT. In fact, and, yes, Jean, I know I shouldn’t say it: You’d make an excellent traffic warden. Always at the ready to issue a fine when one parks, unaware, on some arbitrary yellow double line of your blog.

Has it ever occurred to you that a “stinging rebuke from a FRIEND”" might actually be something to take note of and think about instead of just ditching the friend?

How contradictory your prose is: You claim to be “unrestrictive” yet are laying down the law as to the strict land of Conrad.

Your ‘Catcher in the Rye’ needs to wake up. If you don’t want the children in your care to tumble off the cliff don’t go near it in the first place. Anyway, WHAT children? I am sorry, Conrad, you ramble – incoherently.

Your “For some blogs, the statements of the posts are the key, but here the conversations generated are the key” leaves me in stunned silence. Come again?

If I were a teacher (which I am not) this ‘essay’ of yours would be marked with so much red I’d run out of space at the margins. Not, of course, that you, Conrad, would be willing to learn anything from this professor’s remarks. I will take pity on you and not go into more detail than I already have.

One piece of advice: Stop pointing the finger all the time and look at yourself  instead: A mirror might come in handy.  You may also pay me a handsome fee to clean up your copy. Saintly Jean will be on standby with a little NLP. Kind Ramana will lend you a crutch to support your wobbly self. Grannymar will sweet talk you to make it all better. Bike Hike Babe will – most likely – just go outside to walk it all off. Gaelikaa has enough on her plate without wiping your brow too. As to the others of your circle – I don’t have the time to second guess all of them. And Ashok is preoccupied with other issues at the moment.

Conrad, no one is after your hide.  And soon the sun will be shining once more.

U

Blog eats blog

Friends, foes, foreigners and countrymen, the time has come.  Better earlier than later or never:

I suffer from acute blogger’s block. Considering that my body is made of  25 % of water and 75 % of words spouting at any one time, regardless whether anyone is listening, this is serious enough to have me committed (to the intensive care unit – not the Cuckoo’s Nest).

My condition is not helped by not being able to access Ramana’s  blog which feeds into both my paranoia and prosecution complex. All I draw is a blank. Seriously, Ramana, no joke – you are wiped out on my screen if that’s not too strong a way of putting it. Can’t get to the bottom of the problem. Let’s just blame Conrad since he is good for nothing (insert one of Jean’s smileys to soften the blow).  Also my conscience loudly reminding me that I still owe Ashok, at the last count, two responses.

I don’t make empty promises so I just shall have to knuckle under later this evening and try and prove what Ashok believes me to be. The lattter being hard work. Easier to read a knitting pattern – which, in English, is impossible. I loved knitting as a young girl. Unfortunately my mother – and she wasn’t even of the bra burning type – didn’t understand my urge and always thought me too ambitious in my projects and – when brandishing my end result – could hardly bring herself to acknowledge that it was worth the effort.

I am not here to defend hoovering, knitting, ironing or cleaning the loo as worthwhile pastimes. However, they leave your brain free to do what your brain does best. Which, often, is not a lot.

On a positive note, and I paraphrase: Busy hands make idle thoughts work for the devil. Beat that if you can.

Yes, knit one, purl one. Just like the British (and Malta) have this unrelenting sentiment that everyone else in the whole wide world drives ‘on the wrong side’ (I don’t know about India) they also knit in the opposite direction. A bit like the Chinese read. Once you have learnt knitting, and Grannymar might confirm this, you can’t unlearn the technique. It’s like being asked to learn how to ride a bike again, only this time upside down. That’s why I gave up 28 years ago (knitting, not riding a bike).

Anyway, have to relocate brain gone walkies.

U

PS Wooly scarves on application. Do specify colour preference. Cashmere thrown in for free.

Under pressure

Now I know how a lemon feels: Squeezed. And sour.

When God did his admirable seven days earthy thing – what was that self imposed deadline for anyway? The guy had all the time in the world to create a masterpiece rather than do a bodge job. Even Michelangelo took time and sacrificed his back to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

Where was I? Yes, God and his handy work. Unfortunately he never foresaw the advent of the BLOG; otherwise he’d built in more hours into my current day. One of the lessons I remember from Sunday school to not take the Lord’s name in vain. I do it frequently (it’s a useful way of remembering him) even when I swear in my mother tongue (the latter I only do, according to my son,  when the proverbial has hit the fan).

Apropos of nothing: Has it ever occured to anyone what God has done with his time since his rush job? Early retirement watching the soap opera down here? Or maybe creating other worlds somewhere in the outer stratosphere? Which really is the worrying bit about taking God so seriously and fighting wars in his name. We might just be a broken toy, discarded, for him to move on his next playmobil.

Dear God in Heaven, please don’t let those who are better than me send the firing squad on the strength of blasphemy.

U

Burned at the stake

Ashok, since you are set on a lawyer’s path and – by definition – should therefore be objective, cooly detached and dispassionate about your client and the other party’s plight I chose your blog as the platform to voice my view with regards to Conradgate. However, you ruled that no one involved should be named (interesting take for a lawyer): I therefore use my own platform.

The good Conrad made allusions as to corks to be popped. My maths teacher once opened a bottle of champagne. Instead of holding the head of the bottle away from him – hardly takes Einstein to work out that law of physics – he managed to let the cork hit him into one of his eyes. The sad result being that for the rest of his life he made his pupils’ lives a misery. It wasn’t our fault that he was such an idiot. But that’s bad mood for you: It distorts perspective.

At this point the judge in Ashok’s independent court will ask me to get to the point instead of wasting time on poetic licence.

Your Honour: I put it before the court that Conrad has not only tried to assassinate my character. He has defamed me, my name and my reputation amongst his, admittedly rather small, audience.

Why should this be so, you may ask, since all I did was raise the “lever” of Conrad’s “intelligence”.

Learned Court: My stringing words together  is not appreciated on all blog playgrounds. Unless one’s circle sports roughly the same IQ as one’s own or higher you will be ostracised.

Let me put it another way, for the dense: You, Conrad, remind me of two boys who, travelling back home on the train after school, were sitting behind me. I was about ten or eleven years of age. They pulled at my beautiful long curls. OUCH! Reasoning? Apparently my hair was too perfect to be ‘real’ and therefore was deemed to be a wig which, naturally, had to be pulled off. They pulled once, they pulled twice. The third time I turned round. They never did it again.

That which sets us apart has potential to make enemies. It is how wars start. You accuse me of flaming. Flame what? You can’t flame wet wood. Conrad,  leaving some of your entourage aside, the only person flaming was you with your diatribe entry. Read what you wrote. Then decide how much of it applies to yourself.

I know I am sharp with words, my tongue, both lubricated by my brain, but I am always considered. I spend time and thought on my comments. It’s not my fault if some of you don’t appreciate, can’t comprehend what I am trying to convey. I never asked anyone to agree with me; all I did, what should be done in any discussion, was to contribute my point of view.

Learned council: A much higher literary authority than Conrad said of me: “Acerbic, witty, but never rude”.

‘Acerbic’ is not to everyone’s taste. Granted. ‘Witty’ is not always recognized. Conrad, that is no reason to throw up and be sick all over one of the guests on your blog.

Your main bugbear, Conrad, appears to be, often cited by you, that I don’t “reveal much” about myself. Early on you even sent me an email asking me questions (which I ignored as irrelevant to the purpose of your blog). If only you weren’t so impatient you’d find plenty about me on the platter of your and your friends’ blogs. Anyway, what’s the rush?

Conrad, I had no idea that in order to contribute some intelligent comment to a conversation I had to hand in my passport, provide character references and pot my life history first. I am not saying you are one, however, you are displaying symptoms of being a control freak. You stab your finger at me. 

As to Grannymar: My god, haven’t I known girls and women like her when I walk into a room or – heaven forbid – open my mouth. Hers is a mindset I don’t understand, never have. There is plenty to go round for everyone without backstabbing another female on the block/blog. In one of  her comments addressed to me she jealously ‘defends’ her consortium ‘family’ like a cat does seeing another off  HER ”patch’. If that is your idea of ‘family’ I dearly hope that, in another life, I won’t be adopted by either of you or come back as your daughter-in-law.

As an aside, Grannymar, and to help you deal with being so possessive of your ‘friends’: Don’t include links to them on your blog only to then jump down my throat when I follow them up and have the audacity to comment on their thoughts.

You, Conrad, accuse me of deception. You say that my name might not be my name, that I might be a man (what’s wrong with being a man?). Needless to say that sweet Grannymar has joined your chorus;  she, at least once, viciously hitting me below the belt (since I am not a man it didn’t hurt that much).

Conrad, how do you know that Ursula is not my real name? As it happens it is; blame my Grandmother who registered my birth and went against her daughter’s (my mother’s) wishes. And if that second chromosome had turned into a Y, yes Sweetheart, I’d be the man you make me out to be. Possibly gay and chasing you; obviously I wouldn’t chase Grannymar since I have no wish to join hands with her, nauseatingly often cited, toyboys.

You say I am making personal attacks. In the same breath you accuse me of deception : On what grounds, Conrad? If that is not a personal attack I do not know what a personal attack is.

Come to think of it (not that the question occurred to me till you planted that destructive seed of yours in my mind): How do I know that you are Conrad in need of leverage? For all I know you might have eight fingers, as many heads as Hydra and dance in the moonlight; you might even be a big elephant in a small china shop. Would it matter? No, not to me: I don’t want to have your babies just an intelligent conversation. I thought that’s what blogs were about when comments are invited.

If ever there was a miserable witch hunt you, Conrad, and your second in command, Grannymar, conducted it – and didn’t you just enjoy the drama of it. Both of you and those who joined in, unreflecting, kicking the shit out of me, go and look into your own broom cupboards before throwing around dirt and dust.

When, in the wake of your accusations, I tried to explain something about myself you then accuse me of pulling the ‘sympathy’ card. There is no pleasing you, is there? Other than pleasing YOU. Since you appear to have certain tendencies which I shan’t name here it might give you (and the ever ready with her needle grannymar) pleasure, and please do enjoy the moment, that indeed you did manage to make me cry – briefly. Precious water and salt wasted. Still, we are all human, aren’t we, Conrad?

You, Ashok, say that I might consider “writing myself”. THAT IS what I did on the consortium’s blogs.

Grannymar, in a fit of hysteria presumably borrowed from my own ‘drama queen’, even called for the cops. Grannymar, let me tell you: Character defamation  is a punishable offence. I don’t want to eat into your pension so I won’t press libel charges.

Ashok, I do not know what is going on within the dynamics of some of the consortium and its commentors. You say you won’t use words like ‘venom’ or ‘spite’. Though you do. I might be a tough boot when challenging other people’s perceptions but I am not venomous or spiteful. I have looked over some of my copy again. I can’t see what is offensive. All it proves is that communicating via the internet, without knowing each other in flesh and spirit, you do so at your peril. People will either appreciate your prose and/or give you that wonderful British “benefit of the doubt” or they’ll try to tear you apart.

If the purpose of the consortium’s comment boxes is to be part of a mutual admiration society then, yes, some of  the consortium’s blogs I should not have commented on.

Ashok, you have asked me to apologize to the consortium. What for? Having contributed some wit and thought to some of your blogs? Ok, my apologies. Won’t happen again.

As much as I’d love to, I can’t go to into every single commentator’s name popping up on your blogs. It has been an education and an insight into all your characters: Those who said nothing staying as neutral as Switzerland; those who unthinkingly joined the witch hunt and jumped on the band wagon; one cheerful monk who, in her subtle way (largely unnoticed by Conrad), tried reason and hinted at the possibility that there is more than one way of looking at the same scenario; one bike hike babe who spoke up for me and is now paying the price; and those sitting on the fence just like some kids and a few grown men who cheer on a fist fight without getting their own hands dirty.

Ashok, on a side note, don’t hedge your bets. It does not inspire trust. You, Ramana: Don’t reprimand me only to then delete a perfectly good response of mine for none of your readers to see. It’s censorship at its worst. But then people burn books too when it goes against their interests.

All those members of the consortium whose blogs I haven’t commented on: Sorry. Or maybe you just had a lucky escape.

I have met (number unspecified) remarkable people via the consortium’s blogs and for that I am grateful.

I have misjudged some of you as worthy of my attention – and for that I only blame myself.

I would have liked to continue the conversation, not least with some commentors who made me shake my head, made me smile and – over time -  had me intrigued in equal measure (not least Baino, Looney and Nick). Deb – and please don’t blow your top – stop hanging your flag into other people’s wind: You’ll sail much better under your own steam.

Some of you were so very keen for me to start my own blog. One aims to please.  No censorship here. Say it how you see it. It’ll sort the squeamish from the supercilious.

Bonfires welcome,

Ursula