My drug of choice is writing––writing, art, reading, inspiration, books, creativity, process, craft, blogging, grammar, linguistics, and did I mention writing?

Friday, August 1, 2014

The Really Hateful Hate Mail

Hater McHaterson hates with hatred in hateful hate mail!  

[Remember, keep sending in your questions to chris.brecheen@gmail.com with the subject line "W.A.W. Mailbox" and I will answer each Friday.  I will use your first name ONLY unless you tell me explicitly that you'd like me to use your full name or you would prefer to remain anonymous.  My comment policy also may mean one of your comments ends up in the mailbox. Even your really awful trolling might get answered.]  

As our kick off to Blogust, and it's commitment to five weeks of nothing but the best hate mail, I have dug deep into the archives of nasty comments and shitty e-mails to bring you the absolute dregs of humanity. This is the dark, seedy underbelly of writing a blog.

Anonymous says: 

So you stay home with the kids and clean the house. No wonder your [sic] into feminism. Your [sic] obviously a woman. How does it feel to be a chick?

My reply:

Since no one ever taught you this, allow me to present to you your first lesson in the fine art of the ever elusive "dis." When you insult someone, you want to come up with something they find....you know.....insulting. Not just random facts that aren't actually true. You obviously value women less than men or you wouldn't consider calling someone a woman to be an insult. Thus calling you a woman might be a scathing insult to you, but the whole point of my being "into feminism" is that I don't think women are less than men.

All you've really done is make an inaccurate statement. Like saying that I have jet black hair or that I stand 6'3". Neither of those is accurate, but saying them wouldn't hurt my feelings.

Like, for example, if I were to say that you were clearly intelligent and educated. Those aren't insults necessarily, they are just obviously not true.

Anonymous asks: 

How does it feel to just be some stupid blogger instead of a real writer.

My reply:

You let me know what you mean by "real writer" and I'll let you know how it feels. If you mean how does it feel to be read by roughly a hundred times more readers and to be making about ten times more money than those of my colleagues have gone the route of traditional publishing (those who have made any money at all, that is), it feels pretty fucking great.

Anonymous asks: 

Why do you think anyone gives a shit about your stupid life? 

My reply:

Given that this landed in my inbox on a Monday, I'm guessing that it's a response to my recent addition of personal update posts. As those posts exist as a response to multiple requests, and they consistently get higher page views than any of my other regular entries, I think, perhaps, you have the two of us mixed up.

Dan says: 

It's hard enough to hit on girls without some fucker like you coming along and messing it up. You should be ashamed of your cock block. A guy can't even compliment a woman anymore.

My reply:

[This little ray of fucking sunshine is clearly in response to Creepy Guy, so you might want to start there if you don't know what it's talking about.]

Okay, while the sweat drip of insufficiently wiped anal sphincters technically lacks ears, try to listen up, kay? I know troglodytes don't make a habit of reading past the title and the sub-heading before posting vitriolic replies, but in this case you really did miss out on some ever-so-subtle nuance.

She was asking him to leave her alone.

I'm going to write that again, so it has a chance to penetrate the crusty layers of your blood brain barrier. SHE WAS ASKING HIM TO LEAVE HER ALONE.

"Hitting" on her was in the rear view mirror, Sport. They had past that point long before. What was going on was that she was begging him to leave her alone because she was afraid that if she wasn't kind enough to his fragile male ego ("Oh it's so hard to be rejected! ~sniff sniff~") that he could use his massively superior upper body strength to harm her. She probably thought that because it happens ALL THE FUCKING TIME in our culture.

Women take compliments just fine. I've seen complete strangers tell someone they liked their hair or eyes or shoes or smile and it sometimes even led to a cup of coffee and possibly even a nightcap where one of them was screaming religious expletives at the ceiling while sitting on the other's face. I've seen friendships blossom from random compliments. But a compliment isn't forcing other people to listen to what makes your dick get hard, and it surely isn't going on after someone has asked you to please go away.

The problem is that shitheads like you think sexual harassment is a compliment.


  1. I love that you've tagged "that feminist crap." It makes it easy to find all of your best articles.

  2. In the midst of marking Hell I found this. Why is it that the vitriol of others being put down in a cleverly insulting way is so uplifting to the human spirit? I think it speaks volumes about human nature.

    But, then, what do I know. We should both probably exchange recipe ideas or something and be inaccurate women or something given that I, too, take a fair share of looking after small children and housework. I guess that makes women hard to hit on or something. And my own wit obviously falls short of your own (and that of the hatemail, which I shall choose to believe was deliberately badly conceived in order to maintain some sense of dignity for the hapless posters of such dribble).

    I had a point somewhere but I think I left it in the last set of nappies...

    1. I think comeuppance is built into our sense of justice. If I were this snarky to some kid who was sincerely asking me how best to find an agent or something, it probably wouldn't be nearly as uplifting. These people were obviously trolling, so they deserved the harshest take down I could muster.

      Oddly enough, I don't cook very much. Maybe that should include a "yet," but if it involves anything more complicated than a cake mix caliber recipe, I'm doomed.

  3. I think that last hatemail was missing a few words:

    A guy can't even come up with a magic compliment that will cause a woman to immediately rip off all her clothes and jump into bed with him anymore.