Vice, advice and assorted mice with a price
Wednesday 14 March 2012, 2.58pm HKT
10.57pm local time / 13°C (55°F) rainy and cold that was the day before 10.18pm local time / 15°C (59°F) drizzly that woz yestahday
1.12pm local time / 17°C (62°F) f@#king ray of sunshine coming through
YOU’VE GOT THE MEMO about my furloughing this blog already.
So some people at lunch with me
today yesterday Monday got to hear my side of the story and why I got so blazingly livid recently.
It’s generally easier to explain things out face to face about all the crap that has turned me into a High-Velocity Ballistic Rabbit.
Naturally, not all of the reasons for my ballisticality are related to the blog — but the blog crap “tipped it” for me, as one of the lunchmates put it rather well.
What you need to know is this: I’m not entirely unpersuadable. Frankly, judging from the words I got on this blog and from people in real life, it might actually be better for me not to furlough the blog.
My aching chest and still-wet cowboy boots would disagree. Then again, I am (semi-)famous for my horrible habit of not budging from a decision made in anger (even if it’s a bad decision). Not changing my mind — THWACK!
(Thumping on my desk right now, kicking the proverbial invisible cat, and chucking the proverbial invisible brick at the TV set.)
So I’ll be going ahead with the furlough regardless, just to prove a point. It’ll be temporary (if I’m going to be in a good mood) or something else (if I’m not).
Anyway, my lunchmates
yesterday on Monday might have made some good points, I think, but I’m not in a proper frame of mind to listen properly.
Judge for yourself for me (names are just placeholder names):—
Anne: “[…] I suppose [deactivating and reactivating the blog] could be a bit of a chore. How many articles have you done so far? Nine hundred eleven?! How long did that take you? Erm, maybe —”
It took me since August 2008 on WordPress.
Bob: “— maybe you should tell these people to just [STFU]. It’s not like you’ve ever done anything to them […]. You’re pissed off, you’re tired, your pelvis is giving you pain again — this is not the time to make big decisions.”
Ya think? Bob said those 911 posts are represent an investment in time and effort, and shouldn’t be scrubbed just because a bunch of people managed to anger me (online and in real life).
Charlie (a lawyer): “I mean, Rob, I know you’d prefer to do something else more constructive, given the choice. But how about doing something less constructive for a change, and really step on them later?”
Anne: “Actually, he might as well just — what was the word you used? — furlough it for the time being, instead of accidentally putting out something that could get you sued or something.”
Me: “Or be mysteriously silenced because [my] knowing some sensitive and illegal practices of these bankers, lawyers, accountants and officials from work.”
Anne: “You see! This’s exactly what I mean! You’re gonna end up in a war with them precisely because you’re gonna be f*ck-it-all angry enough to shoot your mouth off. Rob, the way you write, no one could tell whether you’re actually angry or not.”
I’m crazy — not that far-out crazy.
Charlie: “Plus he’s not afraid of anything when he’s mad, which doesn’t f@#king help sometimes.”
Anne: “Just ignore these peep’l. Ye’aaah — those blog peep’l and the otherrrsss. They’re just jealous. You’ve been living in Hong Kong a bit too long for your own good. You’re starting to take on their bad habits.”
Charlie: “You shut down — hey, they win, you lose. That’s what they’re hoping for. You know this. Stay on it just to get in their face. Be a goddamn obstruction. The blog, just publish their names and details — I don’t know — pictures, whatever. Get them to sue you even. Sue them back. Just tie up their resources forever with one lawsuit after another.”
Yeah, riiiight, Charlie, like I’m loaded like you for a string of lawsuits. As if I don’t have other things to do.
Bob: “You don’t have to that [furlough the blog] because those people have been giving you a hard time. What? Your blog, it’s not a major part of your life, right? […] Tell me you’re not one of those people […] who can’t get laid and have to do it online with one hand on the keyboard. Shit.”
Shit. That puts it rather well, actually.
(No, I’m not a single-hand keyboarder, thank you very much.)
Bob: “Like I said, just lay off it for a while […]”
Charlie: “Actually, there could be a case for just shooting your mouth off, in fact. I suppose — and I’m only imagining this, by the way — it could be argued as [prima facie] evidence that their conduct have led to your angry state of mind.”
Thanks a bunch. I don’t want to be prima facie’d as going out of my mind. Defence by reason of insanity usually doesn’t compare too favourably with being executed by firing squad, very slowly shot by shot from the kneecaps up, from dawn to midday.
Bob: “This guy wants revenge — don’t you, Rob? We can practically taste it in the air from here. He damn quiet now because he’s bouncing ideas off us.”
Charlie: “Why don’t you keep a running count on them? They seem to be doing that on you.”
But. I. Don’t. Want. To. Keep. Feeding. This. Goddamn. Anger. With. A. Running. Scoreboard. Got that?
Anne: “You know what I think. Rob’s got all these rules for the rest of us, but he buggers them whenever it suits him. You need to follow your own advice.”
O rly, Anne? You calling me a hypocrite now?
Anne (looking at me): “No, actually, you’re pretty good following your own rules. Just that, you know, you break them pretty quickly too.”
No, not really, Anne. Not really.
Perhaps I have been vague…
Accidentally ran into somebody I know (geddit?) who told me something.
The words were originally Chinese, but you gotta read it in an East End London Cockney accent for them to gel.
“Dun wanna know noff’ing ’bout your stuff. This blog ff’ing is for you educated types, innit?
“Why dontcha just do naice pictures from everywheah — no words — while you ff’ink about wotcha wannna do next? See ’ow long ff’ey could put up wiv it, roight? They’ll ff’ink they’ve shut you up good ’n proper.
“But they’ll be coming back, justa see whatcha up to — just to find out if yah evah back on yer game, wroitin’-like.
“Do the same ff’ing for them otha peepoe. Dun go blowin’ off on ’em, know wot I mean? Do it all sportsman-like, y’know.
“So quietly, you let ’em ’ave it in the goolies. They’ll know it’s you — but they can’t prove it — ff’ey got noff’ing on yah — but they’ll know ff’at you could ’it ’em again ’arder next time around, couldntcha? Then smack’em again even before the next time needs comin’ around.
“D’you know, do you know, I ffink you’re too polite — domesticated-like. Rough ’n tumble is wot these smarmy little pricks can’t ’andle.”
Determination. Passion. Insanity. Ballet.
Who sez them Chinese can’t speak Cockney?
Enough of this claptrap
I’m not going to hear any more of this claptrap from friends and foes alike about not putting the blog on leave of absence.
They got good points. But my cowboy boots are still sopping wet.
It all just sounds too much hard work.
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2012.