Tuesday, May 24, 2011

No One Cares What You Think

I'm surprised that a grown woman doesn't know this already, but it's true. No one cares what you think. They might feel what you feel, if you give them a reason to, or they might hear your opinion, if it has value, but as it exists at present, the intrawebs will not be lessened, by one single degree, by your absence. In fact, it might be enriched.

Dirty Cowgirl, you write:

I hate being lied to. If someone lies to me they are gone from my life.
And I am always honest, to the point of causing offense at times. But if your arse is big, or you wanna know if you should leave your crap bitch of a girlfriend expect the truth.

I'm not going to lie to you, in fact, I'm going to give you truth with both barrels blasting, cowgirl style. You're not as literate, as witty, or as interesting as you think you are. Your blog is a horror.

I like opinion blogs. I read a few almost every day. One's a dating blog, another is a political blog. In both cases, the bloggers can be brutally blunt, and dismember someone in a sentence for getting it wrong. But, in both cases, the opinions that they are offering are informed by something. The dating blog is written by a career dating coach who draws on her own experiences, and the experiences of clients, to provide information and feedback to readers. The political blogger has literally years of crunching political policy and wonking it to the masses.

So, what are you serving up with your opinions? From what I can tell, you're a self-professed loud-mouthed middle-aged cunt with no particular skills.

You write:

I like swearing. A lot. My favourite word is Cunt.
In fact I am a cunt - and proud of it.
There is a post explaining why.

I tried really hard to read your blog, but it does not appeal. At all. Profanity doesn't bother me, but it needs to have a purpose. I don't care about your flatulence. I don't want to know about your pussy (the thought offends on some primal level). I don't care that you yowl like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Your blog template is ugly, the font too big, the background distracting, and the content abysmal.

This is doing blogging right.

I care about the opinions of these linked bloggers because their blogs are like a gift-wrapped serving of soul. These people are WRITERS. They are't the crazy person on the side of the road with a sign. You, on the other hand? Roadside crazy with a sign, thinking that the shriller and more profane you are, the more you will be liked.

As a woman in her mid-40s, I simply want to tell you: Grow the fuck up. The world is full-up on middle aged drama queens. Your blog is what's wrong with blogging these days, now that everyone and their mother is doing it. Not everyone with a loud voice is capable of saying things worth listening to.

Are you lonely? Go back to school. Take some writing classes. Read some classic literature. If you want to write, start journaling, and do it every day until you have something on paper that is worth broadcasting to the world.

What you are doing right now is an embarrassment. And, that's the unvarnished truth, as I see it.

You get a flaming finger. Maybe you can use it to spice up your sex life and/or cauterize your weeping vagina. Either way, I don't see that you've given me much reason to care.


  1. Fuck yes. I AM SO RAD AND FULL OF SOUL.

  2. Hahaha.
    I knew I'd get slaughtered. I don't profess to be witty, clever, intelligent or any kind of writer for that matter - it is what it is, just me and my weeping vagina.
    At least my inner masochist is suitably satisfied.

    But thanks for taking the time to try and read it anyway.

  3. You are not supposed to enjoy the flaming finger. I'm rather put-out.

  4. Tell you what - give me another and I'll see if that hurts.

  5. Hi DCG. Fancy seeing you here. I wonder if there's any other 'Shop submissions coming up...

  6. I wonder if anyone else is brave enough.

  7. I found the light text on a moony background hard to read. For me, there just wasn't anything making me WANT to read more.

  8. God damn, I missed the shout out originally. Thanks! I'm so rad and full of soul too. And tidy. I was told I'm tidy (in a way only a lewd Englishman can put 'tidy' and 'bird' together).

    Great review.

  9. It's the internet. The InTERnet. INTERneTahhhh. INTERNET. Not interwebs, intrawebs or, ugh - slit my wrist for me - the interTUBES. It is the internet.


    It's really good to have you back LB. Kissses.

    PS, for someone who professes to abhore lying cowgirl...lets just say the irony is thick.

  10. Dirty, I have submitted mine to see what the find.

    I'm so excited!

    Vagina Sticks Out!
    (that's how all the cool kids say peace out hombres!)

    Or if you take the middle word as a verb rather than a noun it is an ironic statement, or an indicator of vaginal prolapse, or a commentary on how the word vagina captures the eye so quickly that it sticks out like a sore thumb.

  11. holy hell, you people have been busy.


Grow a pair.