Dear Spammers, Assholes, Stupid Head Poopy Pants,
Words cannot express how happy I was when Outlook sang that happy ‘ding!’ to let me know that I had new mail. And what was that mail, you ask? A notification that someone had kindly left a comment on my blog. Whooo hooo! I love it when people respond to posts – good, bad, or indifferent, I just love to hear from people (even automated emails ring my bell – can you say superfreak?). So, you can imagine the absolute crushing disappointment I felt when I opened the email and read your comment:
“btw just becouse you dont know how to get gold doesn’t mean you have to be such a  douchebag”
    Well. Gee. Um. Ouch. Seems to me like mocking me for not being a gold miner (digger?) and in the same sentence calling me a douchebag may just be sour grapes. Perhaps you are a gold miner who cannot ‘get on the gold’ and is feeling bitter? Perhaps someone stole your gold and now you’re angry at the world? (As an aside: All of those shows on Discovery are totally teaching me the gold mining lingo, whoever named the television the idiot box was WAY off the mark! It’s making me smarter by the half-hour!) But really?  You felt so strongly about me that it was not enough to call me a douchebag, but rather SUCH A DOUCHEBAG? Your conviction and ire feel a little misdirected. But really, what does this mean for us?  For me? Does this mean that you will not be following my blog? Does it mean you won’t be cyber-stalking me and sending me pictures of your cat? Am I off your Christmas list? Or is this a desperate cry for help – screaming to the world that you need a friend – and you’re trying desperately to woo me into being that friend to you?
I may never know the answer to these questions. As much as I am against censorship and power-tripping, I did not publish your comment as left, but rather sent it into the circular file, where it can sit and spin for years to come and never see the light of day again. Yes, I am afraid that this does mean that I am respectfully declining your offer of friendship. While my cup of friends does not runneth over, the ones that I do have at least have the common decency to only call me a douchebag BEHIND my BACK. Because that’s the way REAL friends do things, see? That was we can all still pretend to be friends, while secretly knowing that one or another is a total toerag. Maybe if you learned to play by these rules (and probably sorted out some personal hygiene practices, just sayin’) you would have friends to go and bore hang out with instead of trolling the internet from your neighbour’s friends’ sister’s mother’s uncle’s basement looking for people to disappoint with your promises of legitimate comments. Oh! And it would serve you well to notice that I totally didn’t mock you for your child-like spelling and non-existent grammar. And why not, you ask? I’m just naturally NICE like that. And I’m a giver, you see? You’re welcome.
That is all. Good bye to you, sir. I said good-bye!
Yours bloggingly,
The Keswick Blogger
the un-douchiest chick on this blog.
P.S. Trivia question – from what show and what character is the last sentence of this post from? Hint: The actor who played said character actually is, kind-of-sort-of a douchebucket in real life.
