Bitch on the Blog

March 27, 2018

Alternative Comment Box – Health Warning

There are two types of pain; the inflicted and the self inflicted. Sometimes the two overlap. Band aids on request (I don’t do stitches unless you want me to knit you a scarf).

One cool cucumber of a commentator, on the blog of many as yet to be deleted expletives spewed in my direction, evoked the spectacular of Karma for sins I stand accused of having committed in John’s comment box; something along the lines of her ardent wish for Karma to bite my behind. Unfortunately, there is a fault in her thinking. A mistake easily made: When you wish someone bad Karma what you are doing is wishing bad Karma onto yourself.

I repeat: When you wish someone bad Karma what you are doing is wishing bad Karma onto yourself. As the Angel astutely observed the other day: “If one lived with the ‘eye for an eye’ maxim, when would it end? Never.” I dare say, lame and blind – that’s where it would end: Limp and in the dark. Fighting windmills. So, those lovely creatures out there so enchanted with your barely audible brain exhalations, be careful what you wish onto others.

If my above take on Karma is wrong I will stand corrected. Over to you.

U

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March 25, 2018

Alternative Comment Box – Concept(ion) and Implementation

Sometimes one falls so much in love with an idea you forget why it was conceived; what its purpose is.

To remind myself: I conceived, and fell in love with, “Alternative Comment Box” when I realized that whilst people can, and will, arbitrarily, shut you up on their turf [comment boxes] – not by putting up a valid point but taking the short cut of the delete button – I can be their fog horn.

My Alternative Comment Box initially concentrated on the Three Muscle Tears (Gray John, Joyous Rachel and Charmless Sculptor). However, the Alternative Comment Box’s magic that I can comment on anything any way I like.

So before my interest vanes in those whose comment boxes I no longer soil: Foam, put your view, foam, don’t put your view. Sulk instead. Sully my name further by weeping at each others’ shoulders. The latter, only yesterday, so weakly illustrated by Gray John, lost and without direction, throwing himself at Spineless Nick’s mercy with: “Speaking of arguing… U has now turned on me rather than you! How delightfully boring “. Let’s leave aside that I didn’t “turn” on anyone. Nick, ever ready to jump to the defense of damsels in distress, hands John a starched handkerchief with the immortal words of comfort: “Oh dear. She seems to be fixated on you for some reason. What can you do but delete?”

Indeed, what CAN you do? You ain’t exactly spoiled for choice, are you?

If only you knew how much amusement the two of you provide me with you’d go back to the drawing board and devise a new ball game. Not, of course, that balls is your game.

I won’t dissect Gray John’s comment. It smacks of despair and, as he said, it’s “boring”. So not “delightful”. And, hadn’t you made thundering announcements in recent days that you were finished with me? Never mind. You are only human. Let’s turn to Spineless Nick’s reply instead. Nick appears to not have grasped why I am “fixated” on Gray John. Do some revision, Nick. Leave “fixated” out and concentrate on matter in hand. Where poor Spineless Nick lets himself down is his inspired, if lacklustre, advice of “What can you do but delete?” Indeed, Nick, what can YOU do? One may suggest engaging in discussion but don’t test yourselves to the limit.

Other than that, Nick, and take it slowly as not to test your faculties of comprehension: There is nothing to “delete”. Why? As I don’t comment on your respective patches any longer there is nothing to delete; the matter being out of your hands. The ACTION, Nick, the ACTION is all here. Here, where no one can delete me as I will NOT delete YOU. Got anything to say? Say it. Here. On The Alternative Comment Box.

And before you start, Nick: Don’t push it by sniffling “yes, but I never deleted you”. No, you didn’t. You outsourced. If you wish me to go into detail I will – though I’d rather not as not to disillusion WWW who considers you a friend. Not, of course, that one can’t entertain vaguely questionable friends.

U

March 24, 2018

Alternative Comment Box, Finals … – Going Gently

Sorry about pauses in proceedings.

Sometimes I wish there were three of me. Don’t groan. It could be worse. Four of me. Hundreds, Thousands …

The only reason I wish I were more than one of me that I could delegate to my others. Delegate to my others to tidy all those loose ends I leave in my trail whilst trying to tend to the main business of my life.

This morning’s washing (black) coming out of the machine covered in tiny shreds of white tissue. I nearly lost the will to live. Then I remembered my mission in blog land; namely to support rhyme and reason, eradicate unfairness and instill justice. Not just on my behalf. I can live with shit – even John’s who can barely contain his.

Before I stop mentioning John by name (after all, he just stands for others with similar limitations), I won’t deny him the public glory of having excelled himself. To my dismay I  had, initially, not picked up a true morsel he served me up on a platter. You may remember my post “Inadequate” in which I ask about the morals of a man who applies double standards.

Casting my inner eye over most people in my life, not least some of my readers/commentators, I imagined their answers if I had laid such a serious question at their respective door steps. And what eloquent and reasoned replies I would have received. What does One John come up with? It was so thin, I nearly missed how thick it is: “No comments as per usual….go figure”.

You ask someone about their moral bankruptcy and all they are able to come back up with is “No comments as per usual….go figure”?

Yes, John, go figure.  Unlike you I don’t hone a herd of sycophants who comment even if they haven’t got anything to say; even if there is nothing to add.

Unlike you, and some of your circle, I do not make layman’s pronouncements (in absence of anything mildly original to say) on others’ mind, soul or inner workings. Without wishing to stretch the limitations of your brain power to bursting point:

What does that feeble “counter attack” (if you can call a lame response that) of yours say about you? That you are feeble?

Ok. Let’s, for sake of argument, say that you are feeble. In which case, dearest John, you will be so happy to hear that I only blame myself that I didn’t follow a hunch many moons ago that I was whiling time away in the wrong part of Wales. To no one’s benefit.

Read the last paragraph again (yes, I know, you claim you don’t read my posts any longer; pull the other one, John. You’d have to be super human not to; not least because you don’t rest in yourself but are totally dependent on anyone’s and your readers endorsement of you). I said “I only blame myself”. You see, John, that is self awareness. That is admitting that we have limitations. Mine being that I don’t recognize that gold nuggets are not to be found in a sand pit. I am tempted to go as far as apologizing that I mistook you for someone you are not.  You never claimed you are something you are not – so it sure ain’t your fault that I find you morally bankrupt.

To you it’s all black and white. Which, considering your surname is Gray, is almost tragic.

U

 

 

 

 

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

March 19, 2018

Inadequate

 

What to make of a man who makes a demand yet doesn’t act by his own code.

Specifics:

  • The Demand, nay the law as laid down by One John: namely that on his blog personal attacks are NOT allowed.

So far so fine. Reasonable, if only he were ABLE to distinguish what constitutes a questioning mind and what constitutes an attack.

Enter double standards. One for me. One for all his other readers.

Repeat: The question is what to make of a man who demands that no personal (perceived as) attacks are to be made in discussion among his readers; to then let stand the most astonishing personal attacks addressed at One Ursula as, and he excelled himself, this fine Monday morning. Every single reply of mine to those insults ranging from … to …, deleted. All personal attacks on me being let to stand. Enjoy.

To clarify once more and for the dense:  What I see as unfair and unjust is not so much that John deletes my comments. That’s by the by. The Sculptor and Rachel do so – out of an intense if somewhat irrational dislike for me. However, where John parts ways with both the Sculptor and Rachel that the two of them have the decency to strike me off as if I never commented. That’s ok.

However, One John, the Samaritan, does let my name stand in a rather empty wasteland stating “Deleted by blog administrator” giving the impression to all his other readers that I am a … please do choose choice words from a lavish selection this Monday morning and lunch time alone. These are mostly readers who don’t even know who I am, mud slingers, stirrers who take John’s word for what he tells them.

I am not interested in commentators/sheep blindly following the leader; I am questioning the ethics of a man who employs double standards. So, and sorry to hammer this home by way of repeat: He claims he doesn’t let personal attacks stand, yet lets personal attacks stand – as long as they are addressed at me.

What’s your take on what, to me, is incomprehensible, not to be justified, not anything other than a declaration of being morally bankrupt?

U

March 18, 2018

Writing on the Wall

I have just eaten an apple. It’s what I do in my spare time.

The apple was fairy tale red, crunchy to the point of hard. I am inconsolable to report that unlike Snow White no piece of apple lodged in my throat. I am alive and typing. I do appreciate the grief this will cause some inhabitants of blogland. Imagine I’d fallen asleep for one hundred years.  The good news that no prince is required to kiss me back into full bloom.

I eat my apples, always have, core and all, right down to the woody bit which even I find unappealing. In pensive moments one of my mother’s more dire warnings – about how best to avoid misfortune – pops into my mind. Namely, that if you eat and swallow an apple’s pips they either (depending on her mindset on the day) log into one of your organs and you’ll have to have your appendix out (don’t say my dear sweet mother didn’t approach her teachings in a scientific way) or, and this was and still is, more disconcerting, those pips will take root and you have apple tree shoots coming out of all your face’s orifices; your mouth and ears, she never mentioned my nose (she did have limits; I do need to breathe), for all the world to see that you have eaten, despite stern advice against the practice, apple pips. Who needs a vengeful all seeing god when all you need are pips?

Do my readers have their own little attempts at pulling the wool over our big eyes to share, not least those which left you feeling exposed to forces of nature you weren’t able to fight when a child – other than, obviously, NOT swallowing apple pips.

Sunday greetings,

U

 

March 16, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, Short Term – Consideration

John left me a comment to my last post yesterday and it reads “You are upsetting me Ursula, I don’t need this”.

I took note of it, did not – as promised – release the awfully long, and rather awful, post I had penned yesterday morning and referred to, left pending to ponder on. Just as, late in the day, I was returning to my desk, John’s comment stopped me in my tracks. I like to think things over when other people are hurting. So I slept on it.

Yes, when other people are hurting. Look at John’s sentiment again: I am upsetting HIM. HE doesn’t need IT.

What I find staggering that John does not address the fact that I too, maybe, made abundantly clear, am upset by his/the trio’s (in)action. For Pete’s sake, is everything just about you John, Joy and the Sculptor? Do you actually ever fucking (falling into Rachel speak) care about anyone else but you?

Last night, in wake of your plea, I nearly softened. Poor John, I thought to myself. Mustn’t upset him. Luckily, sleep tends to act like a windscreen wiper. All becomes clear in the morning – what has become clear that you don’t give a shit about me. Nothing of what I have said over the last two or so weeks (and before) has sunk in. All you see, all that counts, is that YOU are upset. That YOU don’t need “it”, whatever IT is.

Sorry, John, you should have thought about that before. Before you edited me even the Angel wouldn’t recognize his mother by the way the three of you have managed to depict me.

Actions do have consequences, John: You can’t spit at someone as the three of you did and then demand that I don’t wipe your spit off my face. 

U

 

March 14, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, 12 – Feedback

Filed under: Communication,Errors,Ethics — bitchontheblog @ 13:11
Tags: , ,

The Alternative Comment Box is coming to an end – not quite there yet. Nearly.

Let me express my regret at my role in that which largely didn’t so much unfold as was allowed to avalanche.

That I am combative, sometimes even antagonistic, that I like to provoke, tease the substance out of people, is hardly a secret. It’s what I do. It’s what some people in my life appreciate, it’s what some people in my life are amused by, it’s what keeps me on some payrolls, it’s what some people in my life tolerate with a shrug of their shoulder and accept for what I am; and then there are the exceptions – certain bloggers and their sycophantic readers.

Remember, only repeating myself as I feel that so much social media encourages that scourge of our time, namely a short attention span – I do take and accept responsibility for my role in what went wrong in my communication within the circle to which John, Joy and the Sculptor belong.

Do any of you take responsibility for your own role in our communication gone so terribly wrong? You don’t truly believe it’s all my “fault”, do you?

What is so sad so sad so sad so sad that I gave and give you every chance to let rip. To tell me what angered you so much about me. What made you foul mouth me without giving me any chance of recourse (remember your delete button shutting me up?). Why can’t you stand up for yourselves and stand up to me by actually telling me how YOU see it? Instead you do the worst, and by golly haven’t you found my Achilles Heel, you just keep shtumm. Giving me the silent treatment.

Yeah. Giving me the silent treatment. If you or anyone else wants to reduce me to shreds give me the silent treatment. Nothing else is as effective in terms of attempts at breaking my spirit. So, full marks there for having found my Achilles Heel.

I ask you, and this is not an exercise in justifying yourself as I do not justify myself; I ask you, for pity’s sake, do tell me how you see it/me.  No barrels held. Just say it. No criticism you can lay at my door will be harsher than criticism that, over a lifetime, has been laid at my door already. Courage, Joy; Courage, Sculptor; Courage, John – no need to hide under cover of Mr Nice Guy.

I will take whatever you have to say with grace. My main mission in life is to learn; we can look in the mirror as much as we like, no one holds a mirror up to us more effectively than those who see us as we can’t see ourselves. That goes for me, that goes for you, it goes for all of us.

I’d be grateful if the three of you, each in their own way, would meet me in my quest somewhere on the way.

And, last but not least, those of you other than the addressed above, those who know me with few or none swords crossed, maybe just quiet observers, please do tell me what YOU think of my conduct in blogland.

Communication, open channels, they are everything to me.

U

March 12, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, 7 – Judgement Day

Filed under: Ethics — bitchontheblog @ 23:45
Tags:

Delivered, just now, via email:

“I think you are mentally ill”.

In case you are wondering who the “you” is – it’s me.

Close up and personal.

U

The Alternative Comment Box, 6 – Priorities

Filed under: Communication,Ethics,Formalities,inexcusable,Integrity,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 23:05
Tags: , ,

As I named my last post Nick, I could have named this post JOHN. Not least because it is an open letter to John. But, as he is unable to get his priorities right, I named the post Priorities. So far so nothing.

Just as I thought the dust was settling despite spineless Nick’s intervention I left this comment on John’s blog. For readers to understand: John has had a bladder infection which I commented on, a comment which, jippee, was allowed to stand. He is now back among the living and I left him, subsequently under another of his posts, this little morsel of hope by way of ancedote:

“Such is your presence in blogland that I find it vaguely unsettling when there are longer than usual intervals as to updates of your daily travails. You doing a Hippo (three years) would be unthinkable, nay unbearable, to your loyal (make that addicted) readers.

My insight as follows of no useful interest to you; however, just like you, once upon a time I too knew, and was never further away than a sprint, all public loos in the vicinity. No, I didn’t have a bladder infection. I was pregnant (and deliriously happy because of it). During the first three months the as yet barely noticeable does press on your bladder; during the next three months bladder and baby find some accommodation so false sense of security will descend on you; then (and the Angel was growing big time) during the last trimester overpopulation, density and duress issues wrestling for limited space were battling it out. Not that you would ever guess looking at the Vanity Fair issue of Demi Moore on the cover (August 1991). We were gone as far as each other. Wonderful photo.

Good luck, John; wishing you speedy recovery and no repercussions.

U”

Heartfelt comment. Personal comment. Giving an insight into  dear moments of my life. Not to be pissed on one would have thought. Pissed on it will.

What do I find a few hours later? Let no one be the judge but the judges

John’s Blog

Ursula5:30 pm

  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    Reply

    Replies

     
     

    I have just read your comments about nick. I am therefore deleting your posts here

     

    For which spineless Nick duly did say “Thank you”. The way you look out for each other so touching.

Dear John, what the hell does my comment to YOU have to do with Nick? Spineless Nick who, from nowhere, has conjured up all sorts of commentators (in your blog’s comment boxes) supporting his whining about me – oddly none of them having a traceable blog of their own.

You then leave me a comment under my post “Nick” : “Like I said Ursula I am worried about your obsession with being crossed , it’s unhelpful and inappropriate.”

No need to worry about ME. Worry about YOUR priorities, John.

Nick comes first. You push me over the cliff. Fine. I make my mistakes, you make your mistakes, Nick made a mistake, and let’s hope that other people are wiser than the three of us.

Spineless Nick and I have been in correspondence for years. Suddenly it occurs to him that I am a pain. And uses your blog to tell all and sundry about the fact that he is a piece of jelly I never gave up trying to nail to his cross. His sudden grief over me helped not just by you but by untraceable commentators. Wow. What a man. Or is he?

Talking of men. Please do pass on to Nick (he won’t like it – or maybe he’ll thank you again) that you, John, are far more MAN than his spineless graceless Nickness. At least you keep communication open (let’s forget your trigger happy deleting my comments as if I were a kid sent to the naughty step), addressing me directly.

I am not sure what your expression “crossed” means. Crossed as in double crossed? Sure. You say MY “obsession” is “unhelpful and inappropriate”. I’d say Rachel’s, the Sculptor’s, yours and Nick’s obsession with me is, I don’t know, … something? An obsession? “Unhelpful and inappropriate”? Why do the four of you need a punching bag? United you stand, eh? Heroes. Safety in numbers. As punching bags go you should have chosen more wisely. But, yes, to give you some satisfaction and not let your combined efforts go in vain, you did manage to make me a little tearful. Just once. A little. Not much. No water was wasted. Salt of the Earth.

You, John, You John, you of all people making yourself a mouthpiece for shitters who can’t wipe their own arses. What a pity and a waste of energy and good will.

Well, in the words of someone dear to me, the most gorgeous gay guy of all time, who once feared I was writing him a “Dear John” letter (I wasn’t) …

Ursula

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