Shitageddon!
I started writing publicly about five years ago. Back then, I would craft what I believed to be some insightful masterpiece, edit the obvious errors, and whack the publish button. I would then tuck myself in for the night. I had three problems back then. I was writing on a business site that I did not control, I was the Police Chief and I was expected to behave accordingly, and I had an idiot for an editor. I eventually resolved those first two issues but alas, I cannot resolve the third. I still have an idiot for editor.
There are some emotional risks that you inherently agree to- when you write publicly. You are about to expose what kind of person you are, your readers are going to dissect what you have written, and most importantly- if you are a shitty writer people won't be interested in reading what you write.
Those are some of the risks. That and nasty commenters.
Imagine being a small town Police Chief, having "die hard" libertarian views, and trying to write in a very well educated and densely populated- liberal stronghold. This was my conundrum. I can only compare that experience to juggling nitroglycerin while under the influence.
Now I learned a few things while writing in Moonbat Valley. I learned that liberals have a great deal of tolerance and understanding for those beliefs that they hold near and dear. I also learned that they have absolutely no tolerance or capacity for anyone pointing out the flaws in their own collective belief systems. In Moonbat Valley you are entitled to an opinion just as long as it is theirs. I also learned that they will attack enmasse and that they can be rather nasty and personal. The last thing an indoctrinated liberal with a Princeton degree wants to hear is some cop telling them that their thinking is flawed. Some cop with a half assed education from state college.
One last thing. Liberals hate it when logic, facts, or truth stand in the way of what they want to believe. Nothing pisses them off more. They can get nasty fast. I was about to find all of that out in the early fall of 2008. That's when a crazy libertarian cop, researching an Indonesian candidate for President, questioned just who the hell Barack Obama was and if he was even qualified to be President. That I did that willingly, sober, and without coercion is a testament to my insanity. When I whacked that publish button in the middle of Moonbat Valley, I could never have known the shitstorm I was about to endure. It was October. I remember it well.
The next morning, the anonymous commenters went on the attack. My phone rang. Nasty emails came flying in. The site owner didn't even try to defend me, his advertisers were pissed. The moonbats found my friends and family and questioned whether I might need a stretch in the mental ward. But the coup de grace' came when my significant other called from Italy and laid waste to me. I had apparently embarrassed her as well.
All of that because I wanted to see a passport or a birth certificate. I wanted to know who wrote Obama's books. That passport has never been found. The original birth certificate has been sealed. Research has all but concluded that Obama's ghostwriter was most likely William Ayers. It is not insignificant that Mr. Obama has never addressed those issues to my satisfaction. Nor will he ever. I will have to rely on the march of time to take care of those things for me. I will post this link for the posterity that read this post:http://www.americanthinker.com/2010/12/crucible_of_a_hero.html
I still have an idiot for an editor. An idiot that doesn't find all of the mistakes or kill an opinion that's about to become shitageddon. There are no advertisers here to howl and whine. Moonbats, intent on personal attacks, are disposed of with a whack of the delete button. No nasty calls or emails and no globe wandering girlfriends embarrassed by something I've written. I like it here. It is peaceful and serene. Just you, me, and that idiot editor.
There are some emotional risks that you inherently agree to- when you write publicly. You are about to expose what kind of person you are, your readers are going to dissect what you have written, and most importantly- if you are a shitty writer people won't be interested in reading what you write.
Those are some of the risks. That and nasty commenters.
Imagine being a small town Police Chief, having "die hard" libertarian views, and trying to write in a very well educated and densely populated- liberal stronghold. This was my conundrum. I can only compare that experience to juggling nitroglycerin while under the influence.
Now I learned a few things while writing in Moonbat Valley. I learned that liberals have a great deal of tolerance and understanding for those beliefs that they hold near and dear. I also learned that they have absolutely no tolerance or capacity for anyone pointing out the flaws in their own collective belief systems. In Moonbat Valley you are entitled to an opinion just as long as it is theirs. I also learned that they will attack enmasse and that they can be rather nasty and personal. The last thing an indoctrinated liberal with a Princeton degree wants to hear is some cop telling them that their thinking is flawed. Some cop with a half assed education from state college.
One last thing. Liberals hate it when logic, facts, or truth stand in the way of what they want to believe. Nothing pisses them off more. They can get nasty fast. I was about to find all of that out in the early fall of 2008. That's when a crazy libertarian cop, researching an Indonesian candidate for President, questioned just who the hell Barack Obama was and if he was even qualified to be President. That I did that willingly, sober, and without coercion is a testament to my insanity. When I whacked that publish button in the middle of Moonbat Valley, I could never have known the shitstorm I was about to endure. It was October. I remember it well.
The next morning, the anonymous commenters went on the attack. My phone rang. Nasty emails came flying in. The site owner didn't even try to defend me, his advertisers were pissed. The moonbats found my friends and family and questioned whether I might need a stretch in the mental ward. But the coup de grace' came when my significant other called from Italy and laid waste to me. I had apparently embarrassed her as well.
All of that because I wanted to see a passport or a birth certificate. I wanted to know who wrote Obama's books. That passport has never been found. The original birth certificate has been sealed. Research has all but concluded that Obama's ghostwriter was most likely William Ayers. It is not insignificant that Mr. Obama has never addressed those issues to my satisfaction. Nor will he ever. I will have to rely on the march of time to take care of those things for me. I will post this link for the posterity that read this post:http://www.americanthinker.com/2010/12/crucible_of_a_hero.html
I still have an idiot for an editor. An idiot that doesn't find all of the mistakes or kill an opinion that's about to become shitageddon. There are no advertisers here to howl and whine. Moonbats, intent on personal attacks, are disposed of with a whack of the delete button. No nasty calls or emails and no globe wandering girlfriends embarrassed by something I've written. I like it here. It is peaceful and serene. Just you, me, and that idiot editor.
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