An Open Invitation to the Trolls: Go Intercourse Yourself
A Sunday Rant
For reasons beyond my limited comprehension, I wake up angry on Sunday mornings. This is even after one cup of coffee and two cigarettes, which is my pre-writing routine every day. Thus, Sundays seem to be the time I rant the most (percentage-wise, at least).
This particular Sunday morning I was catching up on some Facebook posts by Medium friends, having spent nearly five hours last night binge-watching the WWII series Generation War (dubbed the German Band of Brothers). What I found in several posts, most notably by Sarah Paris and David Graham, was discussion about the ever-present time and energy-suck that is negative commenting trolls.
We’ve all dealt with them, of course. Some are nameless, faceless commenters with no followers and an ax to grind. Others are your flat-Earther, the-election-was-stolen aunt or uncle who discovered that you write. For me they tend to pop up most often in any history article that dares suggest the Confederacy was not the high point of American culture.
Like many, in the beginning I tried to engage these ass-hats in meaningful dialogue, forgetting that in the echo chamber that is 2021 that is about as useful as continuing to tweet at Springsteen that I want him to play my next birthday party; after decades of failure, I should know better. Like Strother Martin said in Cool Hand Luke: “Some men you just can’t reach.”
I next went into a phase of not responding, but leaving the sometimes hateful, always grammar-challenged comments in place. We live in a free society, and a fool is as entitled to their opinion as a sage (luckily for me). This ultimately didn’t work either.
We live in a free society, yes, but not so free that I’m going to let some stranger just walk into my house, make a sandwich, and plop down to watch an episode of The Voice. So why would I let them live rent-free on my articles? If you want to write a rambling, nonsensical, misspelled screed then write your own damn article. I realize that might require some thought and creativity, having to start from scratch and all, but give it a shot.
I have reached the penultimate stage where, after a bit of investigation into the commenter, I just block them. I say a bit of investigation because it rarely takes much. They have no followers, no articles of their own, only leave negative comments, their comment is longer than the original article, they forgot to take off the Klan hood in their profile pic, etc. I will block them like Moose Johnston clearing a hole for Emmitt Smith (like Cap in The Avengers, you older Dallas Cowboys fans got that reference).
None of us have time to deal with this nonsense. We get it enough on the news, in the workplace, at Thanksgiving dinner. Block them and write the next article, comfortable in the notion that if you’re pissing these people off, you’re doing something right.
I should add here that I do not block thoughtful comments about what a hack writer I am or how my position on an issue is wrong if the comment is well reasoned and respectful. I get those a lot too, which is normal and expected. But I let the commenters duke it out among themselves. I’m a writer, not part of the high school debate team.
Speaking of duking it out, I said the fast block was my penultimate response. What is the ultimate, final answer? Well, being that I am an old, ex-Army, grumpy as fuck relic of a bygone era, the final answer is this. If you are so determined to force your views on me and mine, then we can meet at the corner of Abercorn and Harris St. (by the cathedral) and you can do it face to face, with no silly screen standing between us. It will be fun.
One final note: I will never, ever stop tweeting at Springsteen. Hope springs eternal. Also, Eric Pierce, yes, I can drop Bruce and the MCU in any type of article.
