Fuck me gently with a chainsaw

I don't feel like being polite today. Or like making a coherent point. I'm just following a global blogging trend and letting my inner bitch burst forth to feast upon the carcasses of the innocent.

I'm in a bad mood, people. Bad week, PMS, whatever. My dad is okay, thanks for asking. The docs reckon it was probably an infection or something, but being trained medical professionals, they're not really sure if it might also be appendicitis, gallstone, or an alien about to burst forth.

Snarking the Snarky made me cheer five minutes ago. All this backbiting and bitching masquerading as opinion. It's bullying, plain and simple. Run along.

I get really irritated when people react instantly online. Just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you need to vent it. I mean, it's my opinion that all those people who go around shit-stirring need to be shot--but I don't go around saying it. Oh crap, I just did.

I'm also intensely irritated by that double standard that says you can bitch at my hard work, but if I bitch back at you, or even respond calmly and rationally, then I'm a stupid unprofessional cow. Authors don't have feelings, you know. We're not entitled to opinions. That's why we only get less than 10% of the print sales from a book we've written the whole of.

The customer is not always right. Having worked in shops and on an airport check-in desk, I can tell you that the customer is usually a flaming imbecile. But if you tell them so--exercising your right to opinion--then they won't buy anything from you, and you'll go bankrupt.

But then maybe the flaming imbeciles don't deserve your product. Why should a bully be entertained? I'm with dear old Lucy Diver. "I love my life, and if God don't like me then I don't like him either, and I don't want to go to heaven." Of course, Lucy Diver got hanged five minutes later.

Figures.