What I learned from blogging this year, a cautionary tale

Confession: I have not had tons of fun blogging this year. I've had repeated troll invasions and I've been banned from other blogs, because of things I've said here. People are getting testy. Politics makes strange bedfellows. Etc.

During President's Obama's ascent, everyone on the left was very lovey-dovey. Now that it appears his administration may well be going to shit, tensions are rising. People are showing their true colors. And as I said, this year hasn't been as much fun.

My New Year's Resolution is to remember why I started this thing: to have an outlet for MY OWN opinions, whether they are popular and well-liked or not. And to have fun doing it.

I promise to be ever-more frivolous, whimsical and self-centered in the coming year. I will write about more old movies and similar silly things that are special to me.

I also promise to ban the trolls forthwith, instead of letting them get the upper hand. My deepest apologies for bad moderation.

~*~

What I have learned from blogging this year, in no particular order:


1) "Activists" you have defended in arguments on the net, will not necessarily defend you in return. In fact, you can usually count on them not doing it.

I haven't figured out the reason for this, unless it's because most internet "activists" have not done any actual activism in real life. They believe blogging/online-brawling equal 'activism' (hence the quote marks). They don't really know what is required by activism in the real world, where day-to-day compromises and coalitions are crucial and necessary for progress.

What we unequivocally learn in real-life activism is that you must defend your allies in return; this is not an option. But online? No such understanding exists.

The bottom line: blogging is consequently reduced to social networking, not political networking. We should probably not be surprised it replicates the pettiness of high school cliques, rather than the expedience and cohesion of a political party, group or collective.

Still, it is terribly disappointing.

2) Ageism is so prevalent and accepted in Blogdonia, nobody is allowed to mention it.

Any time you say anything about this on ANY feminist blog? i.e.: Gee, where are the old women? Why aren't any women over 50 [1] ever linked/quoted/asked to guest-blog? Why are most of your participants so young? Why is the 802456th thread about Joss Whedon necessary again? Etc... these questions are not welcome or considered relevant or important. You will be told to shut the fuck up in various and sundry ways... even down to outright banning and blacklisting. Ageism is not a political issue, it is some damn grandma bitching. (As many feminists and progressives have proudly placed the concerns of young people OVER those of old people in the recent health care debate, we should probably not be surprised at this phenomenon either.)

For these reasons, I do not ask these questions any more, on any blogs, of any blogger. I confine my criticisms to my own blog, since I am likely to be edited, censored and/or banned whenever the issue is brought up.

3) It's okay for feminists to brag about their connections to influential men... even right in the front-page sidebars of their blogs! (boggle)

I know, shocking. Back in the day, such "male identification" would get you tarred and feathered in short order. If your daddy, husband, boyfriend or significant male-other was important, rich, influential, well-known, etc. you kept your mouth shut at all costs. If this fact should be belatedly discovered, you had to bring the goods, girlfriend. Your husband is the production manager of an alternative newspaper? Then you owe us an article and a mention! Your daddy is a rich banker? Then we expect a donation! Your boyfriend is a local rock and roll star? We expect him to play a benefit! Etc. And yes, you did this without argument if you wanted to belong to the collective. (It was the LEAST we could do, after all, as feminists obviously benefiting from male/heterosexual privilege.)

Nowadays, it appears this feminist-based privilege-sharing has been lost. These new feminists just want you to know who their fella is, as sheer proof of their wonderfulness: "My boyfriend is ____, am I hot or what?"--again, hearkening back to high school, and how cool one must be to get a date with the most popular dudes.

(sigh)

At left: Daisy discovers many Big Bloggers think she is a nuisance.

(4) Welcome to the camp, I guess you all know why we're here...

Links are the coin of the realm in Blogdonia. If you go and offend the wrong people, the Big Bloggers will put you on the unofficial master-blacklist [2] and refuse to link you. They usually only link multi-degreed, highly-connected folk like themselves, but occasionally, they will mix with the rabble, and deign to link someone from the lower echelons. If you want to BE one of those lucky people the blogging-royalty shines their (very limited) light on, you'd better behave yourself. Do not inform them they are full of shit (even when they are), on your blog or theirs. Do not point out their mistakes or correct them. They don't want to hear it. (By contrast, lower-echelon bloggers are usually grateful for the attention, any attention.)

Kiss ass. Tell them how wonderful they are, how insightful, how politically right-on. Remember in the 70s, how everyone was nicest to the neighborhood dope dealer, even when he became obsessed with conspiracy theories and didn't seem quite right? Same thing here, only now it's the Big Bloggers, and instead of handing out joints, it's linkage.

Keep this in mind and you won't go wrong.

5) "Of course I'm respectable. I'm OLD. Politicians, ugly buildings and whores all get respectable if they last long enough."--John Huston as Noah Cross in Chinatown.

This year saw the passing of a rich, white, famous, privileged heterosexual male politician from one of the world's most influential and well-known families. Everybody went into spasms of grief, while your humble narrator was rude enough to point out that he had let a young woman die in his car in 1969 (whom he possibly had impregnated, so the rumor went), and so, fuck him.

Good God, the torrent unleashed.

From the left, from the right, from feminists, from all kinds of people. I had to delete a FEMINIST (!) from my blog over it. I was told that because this rich white man had done so much for the peepul, for da wimminz, for the poor bedraggled masses, that it was horrendous of me to say "fuck him"--as if my comment had any power at all, compared to his and his family's considerable power. I was also repeatedly informed that one possibly-pregnant Catholic secretary dying a horrifically-slow death, drowning inch-by-inch over 12 hours, was a small price to pay for having a solid liberal in the Senate.

Don't I realize that?

Others reminded me that I was being a rude redneck, reminding everyone of such things at the time of the man's DEATH. (And what about HER death? When do we talk about THAT?)

I was stunned by this display. Beyond stunned, I almost wondered if the right wing was correct, that the Left has no moral compass. (The New York Times dutifully censored all reader-comments that mentioned said young woman on the Senator's obit page!)

How can anyone justify and/or write off the slow-death of an innocent woman? I am still stunned over these reactions, these lengthy equivocations.

Obviously, some people's deaths are more important than others. Women's deaths are automatically less important; working-class deaths hardly rate the newsprint. And young women labeled "sluts" for partying with married senators? Even less. We see the points being taken off; her value lessening and lessening in the eyes of the media, as well as Blogdonia. Meanwhile, I wondered, what does it take for the dead senator [3] to get points off? As far as I could see, he was untouchable.

This was a very educational experience for me.

Some, we see, are more human than others.

At left: Daisy reacts to repeated troll invasions.

6) You must never, I repeat, never, engage the gun freaks.

They will not leave you alone.

I was stalked for a solid month by one in particular, who then brought along his like-minded droogs. And I am pretty libertarian when it comes to guns--own as many as you like, I don't care. What I did was question the common sense of GIVING OUT AN ASSAULT RIFLE at a political rally, as well as make a nasty vegetarian remark about BBQ going perfectly with the whole violent motif of the event. And BAM, they were all over me like proverbial flies on shit, as if I had said I wanted to ban ALL guns.

I think the Second Amendment rocks, but it's Larry Flynt syndrome all over again: We like the First Amendment, but we also wish scumbags like Flynt were not the poster children for it. Unfortunately, they are exactly the people who WILL be the poster children, since they ARE the scumbags. The question becomes, do you want to make an exception for Larry Flynt? I say, no.

Do I want to make an exception for assault rifles? Well, I haven't decided, or at least, I certainly hadn't decided until meeting up with these rightwing gun freaks. Now, I am inclined to say: Full Second Amendment rights for everyone who has not engaged in any hate speech or stalking. If you have, we should rightly take away your guns, for safety's sake.

If you can't decently handle the First Amendment, why should we believe you can handle the Second?

7) Women all over the world are tired of sweaty boobs!

Yes, my most overwhelmingly-popular post this year was about how women aren't allowed to take off our shirts, due to the almighty sacred titties, which must be covered up always, amen. A hugely popular post (for me, anyway)--I stopped counting after about 10,000 hits. But I guess I struck a nerve! The post was linked on sites like Reddit and StumbleUpon, where the women were uniformly, screamingly positive. I guess I'm not the first gal who ever wished she could shed her shirt to simply duck under the sprinkler for a second...

It's notable that the post just got a new round of linkage in Australia, where the women are enduring a long hot summer right now... the original post was written in July. As summer entered the Southern Hemisphere, the post was widely shared once again. I am deeply honored that I have voiced the feelings of so many women, of all ages, classes, races, countries and backgrounds.

And for the record, the men are still complaining. While they love love love to look at the boobs, they seem very distraught over the idea that seeing them everywhere might become commonplace... they may actually catch sight of old, wrinkly, fat or weirdly-shaped ones. (The fact that we have historically been forced to look at their old, wrinkly, fat or weirdly-shaped boobs, doesn't seem to occur to them.) They want women without shirts, of course, but... do you mean... ALL WOMEN? It seems to terrify them.

Obviously, we're on the right track!

~*~

Thanks to all my regulars who have supported me in the past year, particularly as the trolls periodically invaded. My Christmas Facebook Friendship Drive is officially over, but please let me know if you'd like to friend me anyway... I was delighted to meet so many new readers!

Happy New Year to you all!

~*~




[1] The standard reply to this complaint is: But we have women over 40! I have no idea why they consistently employ this rather inane non sequitur, as if it makes any sense at all. It's like saying, wow, we don't have any people from New York, but we have people from Canada! We don't have any green beans, but we have popcorn! Um, okay.

[2] Of course, this master-blacklist doesn't really exist. ("The secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.") From what I have been able to discern, the non-existent blacklist is mostly drawn up over obscenely-expensive drinks in trendy Manhattan/DC/Los Angeles/other-coastal-area bars. Thus, if you live in one of these cool areas, you can worm your way into an invitation and actually get to talk to these people in person! And you can then have significant input on the makeup of the master-blacklist (that doesn't really exist, of course).

[3] I almost used a rock-band name here (Dead Kennedy), but decided that would be disrespectful, so I refrained. Footnote because I want credit for wit anyway!

In Every Dream Home a Heartache

My Sacred Heart of Jesus vigil candle is from my Flickr page.





Redemptorists? Did they say Redemptorists?

Watching Ted Kennedy's funeral, with all the ex-Presidents and Obama and Michelle and everybody else in attendance, I heard the priest announce that the Church they are in, the Basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, is run by the Redemptorists. That is to say, the order founded by one St Alphonsus de Liguori, an Opus Dei pin-up, major dogmatic hard-ass and Doctor of the Church, who is probably spinning madly in his grave.

I suddenly get a flash of one of Fellini's priests, reaching through the flimsy confessional screen and whacking young Teddy in disdain: You're a bad, bad boy, Ted Kennedy! (Yes, the priests in my Fellini fantasy have Irish accents, which I realize doesn't quite mesh, but they all acted the same: WHACK, upside the head.)

Again, rules are suspended for some people and not others.

I've been thinking about the matter of Ted, and similar men, who are littered throughout the Left and the Democratic Party. Men who do "the right thing" politically, yet abuse women and treat them like their personal blow-up dolls.*

I realize that Ted Kennedy's death has 'triggered' me, as the young bloggers say, and I am reacting to all the guys I have known throughout my life, who have been good political comrades, but also: constantly cheated on their partners; beat their wives (then usually known as the more benevolent "smacking around"); told women to shut up or called them stupid in meetings; would not pay child support; sexually harassed women with whom they worked on political events and campaigns; rewarded women who slept with them with high positions of authority, etc etc etc. And yet, we would rarely challenge these men, because they were savvy enough to do the right thing politically, even heroically. These men would stand up to even more dangerous men, men who would deny women's rights.

The juxtaposition of these men would sometimes make me dizzy --which one is the good guy?--I once thought, as I saw two local politicos debating on TV. The lefty, named Eric, had once physically-shaken me very hard (as you would a toddler) during a heated conversation. To make it worse, the supposedly-feminist lefties who witnessed this act, including my first husband, obediently stated that Eric was "out of line"--but of course, would not confront him or tell him his actions were violent. And there he was on TV, Mr Peacenik! (FUCK YOU, I thought.)

But the guy he was debating on TV? One of those "Drop the bomb and let God sort em out!" kinda Republicans that grow like corn in the Midwest. Certainly, I knew Eric was better... wasn't he? Wasn't he?

I realized, watching Eric run his arrogant mouth on TV, that I didn't know how the right-winger treated his wife. And he might be nicer to women in his personal life and one-to-one interactions, than Eric was. The thought crept into my head without my consent, shocking me.

If the personal is political, I thought, shouldn't that matter?

I thought of this yet again when video clips of Kennedy's speech at the 1988 Democratic Convention were shown on CNN the other night. The speech included the now-famous "Where was George?" refrain (referring to Bush senior). Blah blah blah happened, and WHERE WAS GEORGE? Blah blah blah happened, and WHERE WAS GEORGE? They keep showing it, to show what a great fighter Teddy was.

Am I the only one who remembers George Bush Senior's response to that question, which he delivered at the Republican Convention the following month?

"Where was George? In bed with his wife!" --he said, to Republican cheers and screams.

I am pretty sure a woman, Peggy Noonan, wrote that line.


~*~

My other posts on Ted Kennedy are here: Mary Jo Kopechne 1940-1969 and More on Ted Kennedy.

...

* And when I think of blow-up dolls, I think of the Roxy Music song that is the title of this post. I wish Lester Bangs had not been so nasty to Bryan Ferry, but yes, that's another post.

Desperately trying to learn not to DIGRESS so badly...

In Every Dream Home a Heartache - Roxy Music

More on Ted Kennedy

Okay yall, I am hereby signing off for the day. Trolls, stay back, or at the very least, try not to wreck the joint too badly.

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS.

If I see one more liberal and/or feminist (!) blog talking about the late Senator Edward Kennedy as some kinda righteous man, I'm gonna spew.

Here at DEAD AIR, we calls em like we sees em, and rich drunks who let women die agonizingly-slow deaths rather than tarnish their reputations or make daddy mad, are not mourned, regardless of their politics. REGARDLESS.

I guess it's because she was, you know, just a girl. It's not considered cool to talk about her now. If he weren't a Kennedy, he would have been locked up, yall KNOW that, right? (Is upper-class privilege suddenly okay when exercised by liberals?)

I am now lighting vigil candles (yes, those are my St Nicholas and Our Lady of Guadalupe candles) and saying novenas for the souls of Mary Jo Kopechne and Ted Kennedy. And saying prayers for the woman Ted shit all over: Joan Bennett Kennedy. I am almost as sick over all the "Ohhhh! He was much happier after he married Vicki!" horseshit that I've been hearing on TV. So, he fucked up Joan, wiped his ass with her like toilet paper, moves on to woman 22 years younger, and yes! He's much happier now!

(((fights back urge to vomit)))

I can't believe even feminists are falling for this. Bros before hos, even on feminist blogs!

ANY Senator from Massachusetts would have been a liberal, you realize?

Okay, I'm outta here. I will try not to discuss this again, since it sure don't make me popular. But I have to wonder where my feminist sisters are in this one--certainly, they've harshly criticized men who have done FAR LESS. (?)

(((Daisy departs in cloud of indignation and fury)))

Mary Jo Kopechne 1940-1969

Sorry my dear liberal brothers and sisters, I respectfully sit this one out. Women first.

Further, as an alcoholic, I will not mourn a rich drunk allowed to make a deadly mistake and carry on as if nothing had happened.

I will mourn the working woman who was forgotten, as the actual circumstances of her death were covered up by a powerful family, who then arbitrarily assigned her slut status.

Imagine slowly, slowly drowning, water enveloping you inch by inch as you drown, waiting for the person to rescue you that never arrives.

Sorry, folks. Some things, I do not excuse.

Mary Jo represents all the nobody-women killed (or allowed to die, if you want to quibble over my terms) by all the powerful, rich men, because they were "evidence"--because they got in the way.

During this orgy of remembrance and sentimentality, of course, we won't be hearing about her...once again, it will be considered somehow "rude" to mention Mary Jo Kopechne's suspicious and untimely death. Well, let me be RUDE, then, and remind everyone that she existed. That she was a beautiful and lively woman, cherished by family and friends; she was a human being that was considered expendable by the Kennedy clan.

FUCK Ted Kennedy. Purgatory is hot, and he'll be there awhile.

~*~

EDIT (for the person who thinks I "exaggerate")-- Please see above Wikipedia entry, specifically THIS QUOTE (italics mine):

Earlier that morning, two amateur fishermen had seen the overturned car in the water and notified the inhabitants of the nearest cottage to the pond, who called the authorities at around 8:20 am.[14] A diver was sent down and discovered Kopechne's body at around 8:45 am.[15] The diver, John Farrar, later testified at the inquest that Kopechne's body was pressed up in the car in the spot where an air bubble would have formed. He interpreted this to mean that Kopechne had survived for a while after the initial accident in the air bubble, and concluded that

“Had I received a call within five to ten minutes of the accident occurring, and was able, as I was the following morning, to be at the victim's side within twenty-five minutes of receiving the call, in such event there is a strong possibility that she would have been alive on removal from the submerged car."[8]

INCH BY INCH she died. And imagine how horrible, the terror. It probably took several hours, according to all I have read, since the accident happened sometime after MIDNIGHT. Think about it, MIDNIGHT. No phone call to any cops or EMTs, since he was DRUNK and had to SOBER HIS ASS UP FIRST.

I repeat, with considerable emphasis: FUCK TED KENNEDY.