Wed 7 Sep 2011
Yesterday morning, after dropping Susan off at the airport so she could fly up to Montana to bury her uncle Jim who died Saturday only a few weeks after being diagnosed with terminal cancer, I then came back and got an outrageous estimate for damage done to the front bumper of our Ford (via an unseen boulder I rolled into on the side of the road) during our Sunday fishing trip up the east fork of the San Gabriel River.
Not really the best of times, right?
So what better to come home to than an email from a “Sarah” in my inbox, containing the comment (since deleted) that she posted in response to my three-year-old post of mine she’d found about the last time I went golfing. If you don’t want to go read it, basically the post centers on my reaction to an impatient jackass who hit an absolutely beautiful ball off the tee on the 6th hole at the Roosevelt golf course that landed wonderfully on the green. The trouble with that glorious shot is that me and the rest of my foursome were still on that green and it thunked fast and hard into the grass about 10 feet away from the person putting. Highly dangerous. Highly unsportmanlike. Highly against the basic rules of golf. And yes, instead of just internalizing, I went ballistic.
“Sarah,” who apparently sides with that portion of the population who see absolutely nothing wrong with the golfer’s tee bomb and everything wrong with me getting tee’d off, took great offense and had this to say:
My guess is that with your terrible attitude and poor language that you are what you write. Good luck to a lonely life. If you don’t have one now, your wife will eventually leave for lack of tolerating your bad attitude and lack of forgiveness for others. Accidents do happen.
Isn’t that sweet — I mean, totally and trollishly and ignorantly hateful with a side of kneejerkingly judgmental? Of course, the email address “Sarah” chickenbitchedly entered to submit her comment was clearly phony — something like firstname.lastname@example.org. And then there’s the irony of her lack of forgiveness of me while taking me to task for what she is compelled to perceive as my similar shortage. But the piece de résistance had to be her closing line: “Accidents do happen.” I find that fascinating how she can write off what that golfer did as such, totally absolving him of any responsibility and putting the blame on me for my “terrible attitude” displayed after the fact. I can only imagine how outraged she’d be at me if I’d had the nerve to be as exponentially put-out as I’d be if I actually got hit by the speeding intentionally hit projectile (presuming I was still conscious and/or ambulatory).
Since “Sarah” saw fit to so fully condemn me based on a single incident from my past, I think it only fitting that I return the favor based on what she’s shown me about her. “Sarah” is clearly the kind of person who’ll complain about people who profess a lack of enthusiasm for just about any assbag on the planet and couple that to a willingness to call bullshit when it’s warranted. I’m not sure if such a full failure on her part is from a reading comprehension issue or from her being just an absolute nincompoop, but my sense is somewhere in the middle of those two aspects is where we’d find her incompetently fussing and fuming and taking potshots from her dank and humid corner of the internet before scampering away feeling like she accomplished something. You go girl!
Curiosity led me to run a cursory check of her IP address (220.127.116.11), which placed her within a radius surrounding a point somewhere in the middle of the Florida panhandle on the mycingular.net mobile network (AT&T). I also checked my Sitemeter log and found that she had arrived here via a search engine with term “Assholes Who Golf.”
And I’m the one with the “poor language?”