Bitch on the Blog

May 22, 2018

Clive, well known

Filed under: Accuracy,Amusement,Communication,HumoUr — bitchontheblog @ 09:49
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And I thought I’d finally been able to put my Alternative Comment Box to rest. Alas those who complain about me the loudest and give me no room at their assorted blogging inns are the very ones who’ll keep it alive, come peace or high water. I suppose entertainment comes in many guises.

Yesterday, in one of my idle water cooler moments, I strolled over to spineless Nick’s blog. He proudly claims, what a man, that I do give his blog “a wide berth”. As achievements go I wouldn’t spout it from the roof tops, Nick. Doesn’t look good on your blogging CV.

On the whole I can take any blemish in anyone but backbone is a basic requirement to keep my interest afloat. Yes, so berth or not, my sail took me into Nick’s still backwater. To be fair, his blog does have some use. Mainly to amuse me for all the wrong reasons. And I wasn’t disappointed. Among comments left in reply to his last post you will find the following nugget:

“… PS one final remark – I’m only here because I picked up on some bizarre drama around a person with mental health issues on a bullying campaign to you and various other bloggers mainly from UK. I’ve had a good mooch around and all I can find is a wind-up fake account channeling through the title bitch on the blog. Which I think is being put out by a man called Clive who is well known and across the www for identical scam / troll like activities….”

So far so funny. Call me Clive. Well known. And beware; considering my “mental health issues” that some bloggers are so eager to speculate about, nay diagnose long distance, I’d be careful: Ever thought about which¬†place offers itself to bury the hatchet some think I carry? ūüôā Don’t worry. There are limits as to what I sacrifice to low life. Time, yes. Prison and my conscience plaguing me? No. Instead I leave members of my fan club to shooting themselves in the foot. That’s why they barely have a leg left to stand on.

So, there I was, caged in by my mental health issues, trying to locate the hatchet so I can bury it, chuckling away at that priceless comment, the suspense of waiting for spineless Nick’s reply to the above comment sweetly killing me.

I made a bet with myself since there were only three ways it could go: Either Nick would take the comment seriously and agree, take the comment seriously and defend my honour, or take it for what I believe it to be, namely a bit of fun. My money was on Nick taking the comment seriously – because his imagination does have narrow limits, yet, despite his spinelessness, putting up some defense for me. Good job I kept my stake low. I lost. He took it seriously and gravely concurred, other than to the my being a man bit.

Oh, Nick. I know you aren’t the youngest chop on the blog but you really don’t get it, do you. Think about it: Someone posting under “Anonymous” (no blog), signing off with “John” satirizing my persona as perceived in the starved of wit Outer Siberia of Blogland. And both you and glitzy Bijou fell for it.

And no, Anon John wasn’t me though I wish it were because the idea and execution rather brilliant. I have a good inkling who is behind the joke but that is for me to cherish and for you to guess.

Hugs and hisses,

Call me Clive

 

 

 

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May 2, 2018

The long and short of it

One of the most outstanding examples of humble bragging ever, a reader in reply to a blogger who can’t resist a selfie whenever she’s been to the hairdresser:

“You look gorgeous. I did a double take when I saw your photo. We could be sisters.”

U

 

April 11, 2018

Reasoning

Just came across one of those marvels, nay, marbles: “Your logic is right”.

Let’s leave aside that the person who this accolade was bestowed upon didn’t employ logic. They stated an opinion. A variety of which you can find on many a blogger’s armchair wisdom of how to deal with world affairs. Why some of them aren’t ashamed of both stating the obvious or think that their three short paragraphs amateur assessment of how best to handle the Syrian conflict (for example) holds water in a balloon easily punctured, I don’t know. Actually, I do know. It’s called inflation. Of what? Don’t ask. I have more needles than time to prick balloons.

Yes, so, “Your logic is right”, the innocent sycophant tells their blogging icon. My question, and it’s a genuine one, not least one for Looney: Can logic ever be wrong? Or isn’t logic, by its definition* and when employed correctly, always right?

U

*”logic –¬†reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity”. Up to and including¬†“strict principles” my world was in order. “… of validity”? It’s a bit like a slippery and very lively eel wriggling its way to freedom and confounds all I think logic stands for.

March 21, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, Finals – Weed control

Let’s do the twist, Sweethearts, and put a different spin on “trolling”.

Not yet widely recognized, largely unacknowledged, there are¬†bloggers trolling their commentators … usually the very same bloggers who cry “troll” at anyone who displeases them in the comment box.¬†

Got that? Bloggers trolling their commentators …

Leaving aside that most true trolls are men, the same study goes into some detail, and it doesn’t make comfortable reading, WHY (some) male bloggers troll their female readers/commentators.

U

February 11, 2018

Edit

Filed under: Accuracy,Communication,Fortune — bitchontheblog @ 17:57
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For years and years and years I haven’t read my HORROR scope. Today one ambushed me: “Learn from observation, REVIEW what and who you regard as essential.¬†An edit is long overdue.” ¬†How timely.

U

 

 

January 29, 2018

Retort

I received an email (from a long time blogging acquaintance) telling me how judgmental I am. If that’s how I come across that’s something for me to reflect on. Not least reflect on whether it is a bad thing to “judge” considering that our survival instinct guides us on how to “judge” a situation, a person, and then figure out how we can outwit the hungry tiger staring us in the face. She further devalues her comment by proceeding to not only “shake her head” at one of my previous (private, but played out on my blog) follies. Don’t let a thief tell me not to thieve.

The term “judgmental” is an overused one. It is, usually, a lazy way of expressing displeasure at me daring to dangle a question mark. It’s an even lazier way of not addressing an issue. To illustrate: I say something which you find overcritical. Whether it is or isn’t is immaterial – as long as you find it so, it is. So far so not particularly fair. Whatever. But please do not turn around and point a finger at me whilst doing what you just told me not to do.

There is a marvellous saying (one of many) in the motherland, loosely translated: Touch your own nose ¬†before pointing out the kink in someone else’s.

U

 

December 20, 2017

Non sequitur

Filed under: Accuracy,Exasperation,Fortune,Happiness,Human condition,Intermittent despair — bitchontheblog @ 21:24
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Just came across a quote on someone’s blog. “Good things will come to good people”. That is such utter tosh, belied by all evidence, I don’t know what to do with myself.

I wish people would think before they regurgitate that which sounds good at first sound, and is rubbish on reflection.

U

December 18, 2017

Dream on

Filed under: Accuracy,Errors,Questions — bitchontheblog @ 22:19
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Now what?

I have come across fraud. Small fry. But nevertheless fraud. Executed in a devious almost imperceptible manner. I have called the outfit’s bluff several times. ¬†In a discreet way. Just dropping the odd hint. Naturally, ¬†I now find myself persona non grata. You can’t fault their logic. It’s all my fault that it’s their fault.

Never mind. In many ways it’s neither here nor there. Yet, what bugs me that many people (we are talking retail) are actually, and literally, short changed without them noticing.

Having recently binged on a few films, subtitled and so very noir, my imagination runs rampant. ¬†The last thing I need is my legs broken. Or worse. So what do you reckon I should do? Take it to a “higher” authority on risk (see earlier) or keep it to myself? One of those occasions when I wish I were a Mafiosa with just about the right amount of leverage to dish out justice for the “little” man.

U

 

October 25, 2017

The big question

Filed under: Accuracy,Amusement,Future — bitchontheblog @ 15:57
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Don’t I just love being caught clueless when someone asks me to guess their age.

There was a time when it was easy to narrow it down. Now? I don’t know what’s happened since but it ain’t easy any longer. And I have hunches like a blood hound. So bloody, that the other day a guy I’d had only just met as part of a group of unknown to me “youngish” people asked me, in a slightly coquettish way, how old I thought he was. Brilliant. I don’t like to disappoint people so I played the game. Long hair tied back into a pony tail. A looker. Pretty laid back. Positive about Brexit (and he was a “foreigner” living in England). So on that evidence and considering I’d only set eyes on him ten minutes earlier and he’d barely said anything since his two friends dominated the conversation I had to think on my feet.

There is one rule when people ask you how old you think they are: You think one thing, you take between two and four years off (when they hover around sixty or eighty five). That’s basic maths. Still, I don’t play by rules, so I say it as I see it. I gave it a little time. Looked him not so much up and down as settled on his face and demeanour. Assessing the little info garnered so far whilst he looked at me expectantly, saying “come on”. Ok, I said, 28. At which he excused himself under cover of needing to fetch himself a drink. Oh did his friends laugh. Thirty eight more like it, they sniggered, you have made his day. Though why it would make anyone’s day to be taken for younger than you are before you hit fifty is beyond me. If anything it’s an insult.

U

 

October 5, 2017

Purr

I need a reference point for reasons – in the context of this post – not important. Let’s just say that I need to put my mind to rest. Not least because my mother makes me wince every so often when she “remembers” things in my life she wasn’t even present at better than I do. Now? Now I don’t say anything any longer to correct her. Not since, about ten days ago, I sat next to a lovely lady two years my mother’s senior who was switched on, inquisitive, funny, lively – except every fifteen minutes or so she’d ask me whether I had any children. Having covered the subject of the Angel’s existence several times during our two hour wait my penny suddenly dropped. OH MY GOD. So this is how decline (ever so barely noticeable) manifests itself. No wonder my mother recently apologized to me for upsetting me profoundly. Unfortunately, what she apologized for wasn’t what I had taken offence at. WHAT the …? I left it. Thanked her for her apology. I don’t think she is interested in detail any longer. Main thing is that everything is hunky dory. “All I want is to be good with you”, she says. I do have to rejig my mind set when talking with her in future.

The reference point I need is for a period of utter chaos in my life (ca. eight/nine years or so ago). A few details a little hazy. A couple of days ago I realized that I remembered something that is, chronologically, not possible. So, anyway, and do laugh, I phoned the veterinary practice and asked whether they keep records from many years ago. Yes, they do. Great. Can you please tell me the date when my cat Bouncer (reference point) was put down?

Bloody blasted hell (and only my refined upbringing stops me from using all the swearwords I can muster to express my utter disgust at what the world of information has come to). They can’t give me the date of my OWN cat’s death over the phone because of data protection. Short of my date of birth which they didn’t request I gave the receptionist all the data she needed to conclude that I am not a Russian agent spying on myself. No doing. On top of which she kept calling me “My Lovely”. What’s wrong with the British? Emotionally stunted they proceed to call complete strangers “Love” and “Deary”.

I am now in the recovering position. Next stop on my journey through life? Extracting my own teeth.

U

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