Tag Archives: bad sportmanship

It’s the Little Things


Nothing is ever gained by reading the comments.

I’d like that inscribed my gravestone. Or on the plaque marking the tree growing out of my remains.

It never fails. Read an inspiring article or personal account or harrowing experience, maybe something I relate to on a deeply personal level. Feel validated or vindicated. This person gets it. I’m not alone in this thought or philosophy or experience. Just don’t read the comments.

Don’t do it.

You’ll regret it.

Well, the ones I can see are all positive so maybe I’ll just scroll down a little…

Damnit. I hate people.

It’s not just the Trolls. Those are easy to pick out. Look at me! Making libtards/snowflakes/sjws/whatever fight me in the comments is the only way my tiny dick gets hard. NOT ALL MEN! WHOO!

The non sequiturs are annoying. I didn’t read the post, but I fully agree/disagree for a long paragraph that has nothing to do with anything. Please validate me because the cats don’t cuddle me as much as I thought they would.

It’s tragic that you lost your baby months before it was born, but we prayed really hard and our friend’s daughter didn’t have a Down Syndrome baby so it’s a good thing they didn’t abort.

The “I support you but not how you express yourself/protest” comments.

The “that’s not how I handled a dissimilar situation” comments.

The “My story is so much worse, let me prove it” comments.

I think, after much consideration, the worst comments are Dismissives.

Yes, it is awful that some stranger harassed you on the subway and women face this blatant disrespect EVERY DAY, but get over it because there are starving children in China. I hope you’re happy that we don’t live in a country were female genitals are ritually mutilated and you’re allowed to leave your house without a male escort.

I’m sorry that your rapist went unpunished, but there is an island of trash in the Pacific and 16 species of bee went extinct in the last ten minutes. So, you know, get over it.

Ok, yes. There are a lot of problems in the world, but how exactly does pointing that out help? Does snidely tacking on #firstworldproblems when people are harassed or bullied or triggered make anything better?

It’s such a little issue in the grand scheme of things, why did you waste the time to complain?

Well I say, eff that jazz. When you’re hurting, you may think it helps to remember that others have it worse. Well, it doesn’t. Your pain is unique to you, there’s no scale you have to measure up to before you qualify to feel pain or anger or fear. “You must be this traumatized to ride the Shitty Life Roller Coaster.” Bull. Shit.

We are all trying to get by. I’m trying to save the planet by ditching straws and buying package-free products and recycling bottles and paper scraps even though I know I can never make up for the sheer magnitude of 100 years of industrial waste. And everything I do to help the environment is usually just as bad as not helping. (Like buying a hybrid or electric car to reduce my carbon footprint only to find that building and shipping that car caused so much pollution that I’d have to drive it for 1000 years just to break even.)

I’m hoping to raise my son to treat all people with respect, even while judges refuse to hold grown men accountable for raping preteens because they took money from him so they were the aggressors. And women saying it’s better to thank a catcaller because ignoring them can cause escalation from friendly flirtation to murder, even though catcalling is totally harmless. And people are more pissed off about aborting dead babies and kneeling athletes than black kids being shot for wearing hoodies.

How am I supposed to protect my son from toxic masculinity if you think it’s what bought him his freedom? How do I explain Conversion Therapy and 22 veteran suicides a day? How much damage will I have to undo when you tell him that boys don’t cry? Don’t be a pussy. That’s gay. Man up. Remember, son, your problems are insignificant, so stop bitching and go chop some wood and threaten to rape a girl because she’s playing a video game.

How about instead of telling a girl that a random stranger yelling that he’d totally fuck her is a compliment, we tell boys that catcalls are a threat? And asking for a hug is a subtle way of reminding women that if you wanted to, you could rape her behind a dumpster and leave her for dead because you have great swim times.

To return to my point, it is an ugly world out there. But we aren’t going to fix it by pointing at the ugly and yelling at people to get over their issues. If we don’t fix the little problems, we’re screwed.

To quote the late great, Aretha Franklin: R-E-S-P-E-C-T

That means you don’t treat people like things. Even if you disagree with their politics. Even if you feel attracted to them. Even if you can’t see their faces. Stop responding to criticism with insults. Stop adding to their suffering to make yourself feel more important or righteous. Stop blaming victims for their abuse. Just stop being assholes. Don’t be a pretentious twat waffle. Why is that so hard?

Maybe if we start respecting people again, we can start respecting other things.

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Filed under Ramblings, Rants

I’ve never been so happy to lose.


Thursday night, we hosted a game night for English Majors at school.  I was super excited.  I made cookies and everything.  Why was I so excited?  Because when I told people I was bringing LotR Trivial Pursuit, they were more excited than when I told them I was bringing cookies.  As you can possibly imagine, my cookies don’t often play second fiddle to anything.

It was the first time I had played the game in over six years.  And I lost.

My family might recall my childhood as being an unpleasant one for everyone else because I was a particularly bad loser.  It got to the point where I couldn’t play any games at all because I was so competitive and yet so bad at them that I always ended up throwing a wild hissy fit and storming off with shrieks of “CHEATERS” echoing into the night.   It was never just a game to me.  It was life or death and I always lost because everyone hated me and didn’t play so that I could win.

Would you believe that I still have this problem?  That there is still a voice in the depths of my soul that makes cruel insinuations about my competitors and elaborate excuses for my own failures?  It storms off and slams doors while on the outside, I laugh and cajole and constantly remind myself that playing is more important than winning.

So I was the only one without a partner, I was running on 45 min of sleep, and I haven’t watched the movies in a while.  I can’t really be blamed for not being in peak form (except all but one of these factors was completely avoidable).  But playing was fun, really fun, because, while they weren’t all über-fans, they had all seen the movies and didn’t need coaching to answer the easy questions.  It wasn’t a painful reminder that I was alone in my geekdom like it was the last two times I broke out the game.  It was a reminder that I am surrounded by people just as weird as me.

That’s why I’ve never been so happy to lose.  Now we need to have another game night so I can have a rematch.

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15AM00000042011 · 04:28