Bitch on the Blog

May 10, 2018

Real

Filed under: Communication,Friends,Integrity,Observations,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 20:20
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My mind firmly nailed to the cross all bloggers have to bear [blogging] one question:

Some bloggers appear to make a distinction between “real” people and those they meet in cyberspace.

Do 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 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 1, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, 4 – Update

Catch up:

For those of  you barely able to contain yourself  in anticipation of the next instalment of my misadventures with Ms Misery (“Joy” for short), Demented Sculptor and John (Hansel to my Gretel): My post of 6 Feb, namely “Crash Landing”, briefly withdrawn for refurbishment, has once more been made available to the public eye under the enviable flag of

bitchontheblog.wordpress.com/2018/02/06/crash-landing/

For the uninitiated: “Crash Landing” kicked off, unnoticed by its main players, that which, a couple of weeks or so later, morphed into “The Alternative Comment Box” – a continuing saga. One which I gather the main players take much pleasure in unfolding as Ms Misery aka Joy, Demented Sculptor and John aka Hansel like nothing better than being given strokes to even out assorted dents in their egos. This is almost pathological in both Miserable Joy’s and Demented Sculptor’s case; and whilst Demented Sculptor occasionally torments John’s Hansel for being “needy” (his word not mine), at least John’s Hansel craves them (strokes) for understandable primal reasons as some, though not all of us, do.

So, yes, all is marvellous in wonderland. If, for light relief, you want white stuff, the romance of it, the inspiration of it, you’ll find it round the corner just like any self respecting and perfectly formed snowball, dispatched with perfect timing, will.
U

February 27, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box – Adjournment 1

The reckoning will resume shortly.

Alas, Ms Misery, Demented Sculptor and Man of No Name have provided so much material (evidence) to sort through, and quote from, I find myself spoilt for choice as to how best to paint them in the colours that will do their respective shadow sides the justice they so clamour and richly deserve.

U

February 26, 2018

The Alternative Comment Box, 3 – Making Hay

Call me naive. If you call me “stupid”, several attempts of which have been made, I won’t take you seriously. If there is one thing I KNOW I am not it’s stupid. If you insist I suggest that you are too lazy to counter anything of mine you don’t agree with in well reasoned argument. Taking shortcuts with me rarely pays. Unless I think you beyond redemption.

You may remember my recent piece “Crash Landing” which, despite being lauded as “excellent”, I decided to take down, albeit briefly. It will be reinstalled; I need to edit the bit on the Samaritan quite heavily as he does deserve better. It’s not his fault that he has fallen for the lure of both the charmless Demented Sculptor and the even less charming Ms Misery. Blessed be those (the Samaritan) who know no better. As I said the other day, in the motherland’s forests of old “it’s mitgefangen, mitgehangen” – roughly translated as “if you are caught among thieves you’ll hang too”. Such are the realities of the world. Which is why, see above, you may call me naive. Naive is a good starting point in blogland; plenty of scope for my eyes to pop wide open in wonderment.

Far be it from me to elicit pity for either Demented Sculptor and Ms Misery who have no compunction to share their respective, though small, miseries with the world. Ms Misery’s misery rarely stretches beyond her local weather report, amply if not ably, supported by one of her photos taken in the middle of nowhere in Outer Siberia or equally miserable places. If all else fails she will tell you what she had or is going to have “for tea” (no foreign muck for her). That’s in between advocating hanging, deriding the EU, stroking Trump’s ego’s bald and bold spots and spouting off on conflict in lands far and beyond [her comprehension]. If you want to know where the world is at go to the Oracle aka Ms Misery. Leaving aside that the Bible’s Rachel was one of two wives and a mother (the latter surely a source of joy) neither of which applies to our Rachel, let’s consider the meaning of her name: “Ewe” – a female sheep. I like Feta, very much so – my most recent revelation the delights of frying it.

Where were we? The assorted miseries of Demented Sculptor and Ms Misery. Now, Demented Sculptor (who would make a most entertaining friend of mine if only he let himself) is more subtle than Ms Misery when displaying his miseries. He makes attempts, with varying results, to send himself up with a smidgen of what he prides himself on, namely “humoUr”. I do find that people who harp on about the abundance of their OWN humoUr, and lament lack of same in others, tend to be bores. To put it another way, if you need to point out props for others to appreciate you you may be better off without them [props that is].

The above will suffice for the moment. Gently does it. More instalments about my misadventures with Ms Misery and Demented Sculptor to look forward to. I hope Demented Sculptor will forgive me if I concentrate mostly, though not exclusively, on Ms Misery as her fountain of absent charm and attempts to bulldoze her readers into submission give me a lot of bone with plenty of meat to put my fangs into.

In the meantime let me drizzle a little sunshine on the miserable and a lot of sunshine on the less than miserable,

U

January 30, 2018

Doing and stalling

Why is it that even a “doer” (someone who gets things done) stalls on occasion?

Remember, the French can’t pronounce aitch (“h”) so if you book a room you book it in an otel. Which is why I love French because instead of saying “I hate” (the drama of it) you find yourself saying “I ate it, I ate it, I ate it!” May indigestion be ours.

And that is, so I believe, where the crux lies. You stall because you, maybe not so much as “ate” it, but you sure don’t want to eat it. Which, neatly, brings us to one of my pet subjects, no not pet “ates” – just an inconvenience, namely self sabotage.

Why oh why oh why, wise ones?

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 17, 2017

Dashed hope

The notion doesn’t just belong to Christmas. Though I did come across the subject in the context of it. Presents. Or should that read “expectations”?

What would you have liked to be given at any time, at any occasion, at any stage of your life – but didn’t? Worse, what were you given though you didn’t want it? Whilst you mull over both those questions so will I.

U

November 9, 2017

By Association

Apparently there are many ways of keeping less desirable thoughts and memories at arm’s length. What are they?

Memories triggered by the mention of a date or a place? If you know of how to keep those at bay please do let me know.

Today is the 9th of November 2017. Which, in an earlier missive, I put as 9/11. Nine Eleven. For Europeans, and I don’t know which other countries,  9/11 means 9th November, November being the eleventh month of the year. I am painfully aware that this is not so for Americans. Nine Eleven has taken on such a life of its own that even as a European when I hear Nine Eleven I do NOT think of today’s date. Oh, no. I think of the eleventh of September. The American way.

Places: Dallas, Texas, to me means one thing only (leaving J R Ewing, oil and barons aside). Yes, 22 November 1963. The only time I’d seen adults walking around with grave faces like that, not their usual cheerful selves, was not long before (cue Cuba Crisis). On a personal note, and I have mentioned it before: November, the month, does have a lot to answer for. At least in my life.

How does your brain work?

U

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