I know I’m not famous because people don’t hate me.
Well, I’m sure some people hate me. I’m pretty certain there’s a kid down the street who hates me and my whole family. He egged our house once, and I’m not being paranoid when I say it was no random act of eggerism. Three years later, that egg stain remains on our front porch ceiling, a testament to our victimhood and my overall laziness.
I used to get the stink-eye from a guy who hated me over something I wrote in the 90s. It’s far too complicated to relate here but it involved politics and his girlfriend. The stink-eye outlasted the girlfriend. Years later, I’m not sure whether he’s still pissed or if that’s just the way he looks now.
But that’s not the kind of hate I mean. I mean anonymous hate, hatred for everything I stand for or perhaps merely for starting sentences with “but.” Hatred that is all out of proportion, from people who lack manners, tact, punctuation, lives. Internet hate.
You’re nobody ’til somebody loathes you, they say. The day someone calls me “GRoss Murray” online, I know I’ll have made it. If they call me “Dross Murray,” I’ll be simply tickled knowing I clearly have the most literate anti-fans around.
For someone to take the time to sit at a keyboard, skim your work, log onto the comments and write, “U Suk!!!” that means you have touched them at the very hateful core of their being.
“Flaming” and “trolling,” it’s called, and it’s all new social behaviour, something that does not exist in nature. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, is it still “f***ing lame”? No. If a tree falls on YouTube, on the other hand…
A recent study in China found that the Internet is actually making us more angry. Monitoring the Chinese version of Twitter, researchers found that angry tweets were far more likely to be retweeted than others, plus they received more angry replies. Well, duh! Idiot researchers! Stupid fake Chinese Twitter!
And what seems to make people most angry are famous people. Abuse means you’ve made it. I’m sure the new Miss America must have felt a certain thrill of legitimacy when winning a very silly beauty tournament prompted strangers to pick up on her Indian-American heritage, run to their Twitter feeds and describe her as “terrorist,” “Arab” “Un-American” and “Miss 7-11.” After all, one should not underestimate the cultural importance of these beauty pageants.
The other day, I finally saw that Miley Cyrus video, the one where she catches the flu from licking a dirty sledgehammer and riding naked on top of a wrecking ball, poor thing. The comments under the video were truly hateful, as if Miley had personally done these people wrong. Maybe Miley went around to their homes and threatened to sing at them unless they watched the video, in which case, I would be upset too, but I doubt I would call her that word. Or that word. Or that word either. Instead, what I did was turn off the video as quickly as possible because I was a little embarrassed, for both Miley and me and for pretty much all of humankind.
But people wouldn’t be so angry if Miley weren’t so famous. If she were just some girl trying to make it in the music industry by eroticizing demolition equipment, there’d be little to hate. When you’re famous, though, you suddenly become fair game for bile and vitriol – not criticism, which takes actual thought, but anonymous people pointing out that you’re gay/stupid/ugly/a slut/awful/the worst evaaarrrrrr!
Fame engenders abuse. If you’re not abused, therefore, you’re not famous.
In my case, all I get are sweet and supportive comments and nice people telling me how much they like my column. (I’ve been told they particularly liked the one about the humblebrags.) I did once generate a nasty letter when I made fun of rugby but that’s a rugby player for you.
So go ahead, let me have it. Make me famous. Heap on the abuse. Look at my glasses. They’re so cheap and ugly. Hell, I’m cheap and ugly! What am I, some kind of hipster? Do I think I’m funny? I’m not funny. My 12-year-old is funnier than me. I don’t even like rugby! Any person who doesn’t like rugby shouldn’t even be allowed to write. I think I deserve a punch in the face. What a butt-worm! Go ahead, call me a Pez-head. I would throw eggs at my house every single day.
I feel famouser already!
Yip, definitely bad…
Well, I asked for it.
But I find it difficult to progress to hating you… 🙂
Mission NOT accomplished!
So sorry…
Nice beard, doofus! What’s up with that couch in your header picture? Is it tan or beige or what? Tan or beige or what is stupid, just like anybody who would sit on a couch those colors. Oh and way to be from Canada too! Fuck your maples syrup and Canadian women’s national soccer team! Great post by the way. Clean up that egg though you lazy bastard.
I’ll have you know the colour of that couch is referred to as “phlegm.”
Sorry, Rosemary, you’re a sweetie…now if you make fun of me, I’ll come over and whap you on the head with an ice skate.
What about a telescope with a map inside?
How about a telescope with an orienteering scout in it?
They sell some odd things at the sporting shops in Canada…
It’s that weird Canadian Tire (Tyre?) place –
As long as y’all don’t go slapping chevrons on the gear…
I’m not canadian – so no worries – I’m just a wannabe Canadian
It’s my new special channel.
You are a special channel, Rosemary
Wow, I can’t believe I wasted two minutes of my time reading this garbage. And I’m wasting even more time commenting on it. If I’m ever asked if I have any regrets, I’ll have to say that reading this post is top of the list.
Thanks! Tell your friends!
Go to Hell!
I don’t have any friends, you asshole. You were talking to The Cutter.
That’s the spirit.
Says some creep from the extra part of America.
Nice try …
Dang.
Sadly, it still seems true that the only thing people enjoy more than building someone up is tearing them down.
Why is that, I wonder. Is there some evolutionary benefit to telling other people they suck? Say it enough and you get their women? I dunno…
U suk at tryin’ to suk! What’s with all the big, correctly spelled words?! And I’m not even going to bring up all that punctuation crap. Just who do you think you are, Mr Bigshot? You’re lucky I don’t bring my cat over and throw him at you. I haven’t even clipped his claws much.
I love when nice people try to be mean.
I wish you’d eat a turd cooked in grease and celebrate by getting kicked int he stomach.
That’s poetry, man. Poetry!
Well, there’s no excuse for not trying.
Helpful Hint from a Gal Who’s Made It:
All you have to do to receive anonymous hate is: 1) publicly support water fluoridation, and/or 2) publicly support gun regulations.
There! You can be hated too!
That would do it. I seriously thought coming out as being not particularly fond of cats would do the trick, though.
Kittens. It has to be kittens.
oooOOOOOoooo…
Second that – gun regulations worked for me.
USA: U Some Angry!
X, try writing about fluoridation. It will make you a superstar.
Kylie’s readers keep the tinfoil hat industry alive.
Only organic, free-range, fair-trade tinfoil.
Not having random folks hate me is the reason I didn’t pursue acting. Otherwise, I wouldda been a contender…
But you forgot that famous folks have fan clubs in addition to anti-fan clubs. I’d be in your fan club. Especially since you invented my newest favorite word “eggerism.” (I have to eat a lot of eggs and am getting damn sick of them. Fear of being considered an eggerist will enable me to continue eating the damn things for another couple of months.)
Sweetness will get you nowhere… I MEAN EVERYWHERE!
Hey, do you know Bill at http://pinklightsabre.com/ He wrote a piece about acting in his youth today that will make you chuckle. (And he dedicated the post to me! but honesttogod, that’s not why I’m sending you over there.) He’s like the resident philosopher of WordPress and everyone who loves language and thinking about life should be following him.
Oh I just read that and LOVED it! Thanks. I will follow him.
And here is the heart-wrenching story of how my dream died: http://fiftyfourandahalf.com/2011/12/27/door-number-two/. Nevertheless, I did manage to get not one but two oscars. I am really good.
You missed an opportunity for some fine physical comedy with that broom closet. That’s funny stuff.
What I missed is my acting career … Sigh. Life is good, right? Right? You there …
Right!
Nice try, Ross. Not gonna happen.
Aw shucks.
You’re the worst! I actually think about this too – I’m kind of eager for one day when I get big enough that someone says something mean about me. Our haters are out there. Don’t worry – they’ll find you, GRoss, they always do.
After this little experiment today, I’ve changed my mind. Even though everyone’s kidding (or… are they?), these comments aren’t nearly as enjoyable as I thought they’d be. I just want to be loved, is that so wrong!
I am always surprised by the vitriol people will unleash online. Some are truly shameless, making some horrific nasty statement next to a profile picture of their gloating, smiling face while holding their cat next to it (using their real name – the person’s, not the cat’s. I’m pretty the cat is smart enough to have an alias knowing what an asshat their feeder is).
“pretty sure” – missed a word.
I dunno. “I’m pretty” worked too.
Unless it’s an asscat.
Perfect! Now I’m pissed at you that I didn’t think of it first. You are a right bastard.
There. Your mission has been accomplished.
I will sleep the sleep of the loathed tonight.
They sleep pretty well, I suspect. Enjoy!
I don’t know enough about you to hate you. However I just realized something about myself. I stopped taking up for the underdog because sometimes they hate and hate makes hate.
It’s true. Sometimes in condemning the haters, we end up sounding hateful ourselves. Make ’em laugh, I say.
flame-ku
ross calls for the trolls
delights in words bent nasty
wants that famous feel
Oh man. That is the best thing today. The. Best!
happy.
You sure know how to get the cobra to come out of the basket, don’t you. I just wrote a bunch of detritus and deleted it because it embarrassed me. Like, if you could undo those crude things you scratched into the bathroom stall while sitting there, feeling like a big man, leaving your mark of filth on the wall for others to see. YOUR MARK OF FILTH ROSS. Man, I love you buddy. I got nothing but flowers and straight-guy shoulder squeezes for ya, mate. Butter me up with words, buddy-boy. And thanks for turning me on to your friend Elyse.
I have to say, I haven’t enjoyed the faux-abuse as much as I thought I would. Hateful language is still hateful language, no matter the good-natured intent. I used to think we could disempower words like “fuck” if we just willed it so. Now I think words do have voodoo.
Bro-hug right back at you, good sir.
It’s been a good fucking day on the goddamned Internet. Sweet dreams.
For some reason, I always have serious difficulties making any kind of supportive comments, compliments, stuff like that. Writing abusive or hateful comments is only a tiny bit easier for me, but it’s still hard. So I can only do the jackassed trolling of your blog, which I guess is still a step towards fame for you.
I’ve never found you to be abusive in any way. Sardonic, yes, but I find that endearing.
Thank you – but I didn’t mean to say I was trying to be abusive. All I usually go for is trying to make a clever remark.
Sorry. Yes, definitely clever. I think that’s how most of us roll. It’s what makes this fun.
I think it is sad that people feel the need to heap abuse on people just because they are famous or do something stupid. We all do stupid things. It makes me wonder what kind of people are they in the real world. Are they the people who gleefully steal your parking place at the mall? Are they the people who have no qualms about jumping in front of you in a line when you are not looking? But then again maybe, they are the shy quiet ones who meekly give way and say nothing when someone else does this to them. I think it is the quiet ones you have to worry about most. So I have to meekly say, “Love your posts!”
I think the quiet ones are usually fine. It’s the jerks that ruin it for the rest of us, in most aspects of life. And thank you very much.
If Miley was a dude, she’d be you, Ross “the twerker” Murray. Eat it!
Well, if I have to be a Cyrus, it’s better than Billy-Ray.
And way more sexy. Foam finger. Enough said.
Geeze, thanks to you, I now have two more blogs to read, which means less time to devote to my non-existent social life.
Thanks GRoss. Thanks a bunch.
We aim to displease.
And I appreciate that!
U don’t suck. It sucks that I can’t even come up with a suitable insult for you. But I think there’s someone at work who deserves the name, “butt-worm.”
It’s yours. Enjoy.
ONE STAR
http://www.themorningnews.org/article/lone-star-statements
Those are great! I’m just re-reading Slaughterhouse Five, one of my favourite books. Just for fun, I went on Goodreads to see what people thought of this book these days. Yup: one star statements.
Haha nice, I haven’t read that one- it’s on my list though. The Turkish Delight rant really got me.
I am happy you just turned off the video – we don’t need to give this kind of behavior any more publcity. It’s like Miley is trying with all her might to shed her Hannah Montana image by going over the top in the other direction.
And it’s working.