My bitch is well trained. Walks at heel. However, that muzzle needs to be taken off every so often.
Since one of the broadsheets I mentioned recently has now blacklisted me so much that I have reached the status of not just being “moderated” but PRE-moderated (make that obliterated) I have to find wrath somewhere else. For those interested: It is extraordinary. Where fellow commentators will call the author (and other commentators) blithering idiots – which I find not only stupid but below the belt – perfectly reasoned comments will be taken down. It’s quite fantastic. Oh the fun. One commentator now so incensed for being continually taken down has promised to write (longhand, paper) to the editor of paper. Several co-commis, including my miserable self, supported this. It took about half an hour for all of us going down the drain. Anyway, that’s it. Will now undergo sex and name change, present at said paper and apply for position of moderator.
In the meantime, because I am fuming on many cylinders of life at the moment, I take light – if startled – relief reading a blogger’s spoutings (only every few days or so – there is only so much I can take). A person who has navel gazing down to an art rivalling Michelangelo lying on his back whilst painting the ceiling of the Sixtine Chapel. An extraordinary case. So glad I don’t work in psychiatry. Though, if I did, I might not find anything surprising. Giving me peace of mind. Forgive me for saying so: People like her should not have children. Navel is one thing, abyss is another. Never ever in my life have I come across anyone so self centered. Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Doing to her children exactly what she is lamenting about her own mother. Do you ever feel like shaking the shit out of someone?
To fire my furnace further: Another bane claims that “real women don’t do drama because her time is too precious”. Let’s leave aside wondering what constitutes a “real” woman as opposed to fake: What if life does throw ‘drama’ at you whether you want it or not? So her REAL woman walks away? Anyway, mustn’t stoke that little flame of contempt growing on me. Never thought it possible, must be moving in the wrong circles: Contempt. Feeds on itself. Leaving a bad taste.