In an Awesome twist of irony, it’s currently Be Nice on the Internet Week.
Surprisingly, this wasn’t a Hallmark-created holiday, but rather a movement started by Real Simple magazine. I may not use their redefined acronyms (W.T.F. = Why That’s Fabulous; F.U. = Friendly Uprising; M.Y.O.B. = Make Your Own Bliss), but I do like the idea behind their message.
As a superfan and superuser of snark, I appreciate dark humor and general LOLs, sometimes at the expense of others. Sometimes, but never with malice on purpose. I have this other blog, We Know Awesome, where I share funny, irreverent, and satirical things found on the interweb. There are times when I may have hurt the feelings of someone who may be the subject of a post, and I always always remove anything that I later learn is hurtful.
I’m far from a saint, though I have been shopping around for stylish schmatta to replace my brand-name clothes. I figure the more Mother Teresa-like I look, the easier it will be for my sainthood to be crowned. I do get a crown for being recognized as a saint, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?
By now you’re asking, “Where’s the irony, Pangie? Get to the point already.”
Yesterday, I received this not-so-nice email through the contact form on We Know Awesome:
We read about bullying and general meanness of folks on the internet. Sometimes we accidentally on purpose see the comments left on news articles and news blogs. But I rarely, if ever, see the hateful, anonymous emails sent to other people.
I’m breaking the tradition of hiding the hate.
I will show you the emails I receive that are sent anonymously or sent with a real name attached. If I know for certain who the person is sending a not-so-nice note, I’ll credit them for their words. I don’t want to be accused of stealing now, do I?
I know for 97% certainty the name and website of the person who sent the above email. But because I have that 3% doubt, I can’t put her name on it. I don’t know her personally, and I don’t believe we’ve met online or offline, but she sure as heck doesn’t like me.
Sending nearly-anonymous, hate-filled, baseless emails is not being nice. Like most women, I have a cunt, but calling me one is just silly-mean.
And wishing I get hit by a truck? I mean, really. Come up with something more creative next time you send someone like me a crazy-pants email. If you need other ideas on how to wish someone dead, watch a horror film or read the comments on a news blog. Those people have some original ways to wish people dead.
I wish to do favors for those in need of my help. Editing and fixing the grammar of the trolls and haters is my Tourette’s. Like Mother Teresa, I’m a giver. Except I don’t give to the poor; I give to the poorly educated.