Real Or Imagined, There's A Wad In My Panties

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! I've got a bee in my bonnet! Quick! Help me let it out, before I swell up like a giant, bloated Woody Woopecker Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. Mr. Pitt himself would be unable to handle such a behemoth.

There's more to my issue from yesterday, but I shan't dwell upon it at this time. I've got stinkier fish to fry.

Doesn't it just gripe your gizzard when you leave a comment on a blog, and someone down the page addresses it in a holier-than-Mrs. Hillbilly Mom manner? Yeah. I knew you'd take my side. That's why I seek out my commenters from Yes-Men 'R' Us, the flagship, the gold standard, the epitome of commenter providers.

Here's the deal. I have no issue with those who may take a jab in a humorous way. Or build upon some flippant remark I've made. That's entertainment. My problem is with those who look down their powdered noses over their granny glasses, past their teacup-holding hand with pinky finger extended, over their Grey Pouponed watercress-and-cucumber sandwich with the crust cut off, and announce through pursed lips that SOMEBODY has an axe to grind, or is spouting unwanted and inappropriate advice. Get over yourself already! It ain't your freakin' blog, and you shouldn't presume to read the blogster's mind. There's a little feature on those comments that result in Deleted By Blog Administrator. Uh huh. YOU are not the blog police. So back off, Jack. Stick it in your fanny pack. Stop givin' me the flack. I ain't takin' nothin' back. Go buy yourself some tact.

I think it stems from jealousy. Someone who's been hanging around longer wants to rule the roost. Get all possessive and stalky. Pick on the new kid. Close the fellowship of the clique. Relax. I'm not out to steal your blog buddy. Just dropping by to return a favor. Answering a questions specifically posed. So sue me.

Don't you see it that way on some blogs? Folks acting like feisty students jousting for the teacher's attention? Or household pets when a new member is introduced into the pack? Look at me! ME! Over here! Forget her. She's new. We go way back, remember? I'm the pet! LOOK AT ME! See? I saved you from that cretin! You're welcome.

It doesn't take much to set me off, you know.

Editorial Note: for the handful of people who hang out here at the Mansion, whittling corn cob pipes on the front porch...it's NOT about you or your blog. Just sayin'.