the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Exclamation Point, Summer 2007 Edition

It’s been several months since the last installment of hatemail, and now I’m starting to get hatemail about not posting enough hatemail. I would have posted some sooner, but recent hatemail hasn’t been very clever or passionate, and I didn’t have a lot to work with. A lot of it was about how they didn’t like my hair, or why am I dressing Leta like that? Or can you please change your masthead because I don’t like pink. Most of those I just forwarded to Jon because he’s the site admin and needs to be aware of such issues. And he’d always send an email back to me that said: UNSUBSCRIBE.

I think the summer weather has neutralized the brain waves of some of my readers, because a lot of my hatemail is lacking a certain intensity that I have come to love and appreciate. Like this one from Patrick:

Since I have read your blog, you have referred to yourselfe as “Shit Ass Ho Motherfucker” and now your husband as something similar. I am just sad to see that characterization still applied, even if it is meant as some kind of… what? I don’t know what use an intelligent, happy person would have for such characterizations towards anyone, much less themselves.

It is violent language… it is angry language… it is hatefilled language designed to hurt. To cultivate this energy in your life is sad. The reason I looked at your site today is that I am in the process of cleaning out my “favorites” on my computer and am going to get rid of all these blogs I spent time reading last year when I was unemployed for a few months. I guess I am just writing to you because it makes me a little sad to see such an intelligent, attractive woman so unhappy… with yourself.

You can get as defensive about that statement as you wish, but believe me ~ if you loved yourself… you wouldn’t leave that hurtful identification up on your blog. I hope your very legitmate resentment against organized religion will not turn you off to an openmindedness about a spiritual way of living that could heal whatever hurts so much.

Raise your hand if you made it to the end of that one.

That’s what I thought.

Here’s one from Michelle:

Stop blogging so much about your stupid boring life in the house all day and start eating. You look anorexic – like you are shriveling up and dying. Eat a cheeseburger for Christsakes!

Does making fun of skinny people make you feel better about being an asshole? I’ve often wondered, because apparently I can go out and cure my inherited metabolism with a cheeseburger. But you? How are you going to fix that personality?

From Annette:

So… I don’t quite understand… You’ve got skin cancer, but you blog about spending time in the sun in your new pool?!? Strange.

Talk about strange. “They” don’t make anything that I can put on my skin to protect myself.

(!?!?)

This next one is from Nancy:

First I must say that I am impressed (read jealous) of your new house and somewhat amazed (read perplexed) that you are making such a nice living (read lots-o-cash) from your blog. Well, good for you. I just think it’s kind of lame that you didn’t mention the new house until “several weeks later.” If the blog is about you life, why didn’t you let us in on all this earlier. I don’t know, it makes me wonder if you are really so honest about what you write. It would be much more compelling if you really let us know what was going on when it was happening and not after the fact (sex not included). Seems kind of fake.

Nancy, it is kind of lame that I make choices about what to write. On my personal website. You have a point there.

But did you ever think that maybe I didn’t want to write about selling my house while it was still on the market because of how easy it would be for some loony to find the listing, and then show up saying that they were interested in buying the house? Just so that they could rummage through my underwear drawer? I mean, it’s not like strangers routinely show up to the address listed on my contact page thinking that it is my house, forcing the employee there at the UPS store to clarify that no, dooce does not live here behind the counter.

Next up is one of the weekly emails I get from Random Mormon Stranger Who Wants To Save Me:

For the most part in the last few month”s I have sorted out your talent and ignored your mormon slams. You know you have finally convinced me that you have turned against your former faith and taken on the disk a mormon attitude. Your profanity against our creator is very evident. You need to humble yourself and listen to answers of your parents prayer’s concerning you. After all your beautiful little daughter will watch and listen to you ,what you say, and do. You are her role model. I admire your creativeness, and talent to do what you do but feel sorry for the spiritual path you have chosen at this point of your life. Alot of non-mormons read your website and probably spur the chance they have to investigate the lds faith because of your calous thoughts and actions directed at the lds church and the state of utah.

I really wish my Granny would walk away from the computer and take her Xanax.

And this one from Amy:

Let me start by saying I enjoy your blog and have been a loyal reader for a long time. The problem I am having with your blog, is the following. How, are you “paid” by ads when your site is not updated on a regular basis? I visit your site daily only to be disappointed that you haven’t posted for days…..If I was paying you for advertisement and noticed this, I might wonder are you lazy, just do not have anything to say, or just so sure of your fans that you only need to humor us every now and then?

Did I say I was “paid” by ads? That was a mistake! Didn’t mean that. What I meant to say was that certain advertisers have Jon’s testicles wired to an electrical device, and every day that I don’t post something new they shock his balls up into his esophagus. As incentive.

If it weren’t for this arrangement I would not even be aware that I’ve gone a day or two without posting. Because I don’t ever have angry readers sending me reminders that they are making judgments about my character when I fail to update every single day.

From Pete:

you are idiot.

Right. Gotcha. Hey, does it hurt your knuckles when they scrape across concrete? How about asphalt? Also, is it fun to sleep in trees?

From Karen:

I have enjoyed reading your site for years but I was quite upset this evening to realize that you are financing your new (albeit inexpensive) outdoor cooling device by helping to hawk life insurance for infants. Pretty awful.

Maybe you are referring to a Google ad? Because I don’t ever remember approving an ad for infant life insurance, and I don’t really have a lot of say in what shows up in the Google ads. They take on a life of their own depending on the words I use in a post, and sometimes when you pull up my about page, the Google bot will read through what I’ve written there and serve up ads for HOT MORMON SINGLES, and come on, have you read my about page? I’m neither hot nor single.

And from Sherie:

Your life is so fucking dull.

Noted. Will work harder to get arrested.

From Peggy:

I work in a mental health facility and I was a bit drawn back that you brought up mental illness in a joking manner. People struggle on a day to day bases and work hard through them. Some people would appreciate a house,a dog,even to be able to stay well enough to keep their children. So I would just like to say feel blessed for all the things you have. Mental Illness is a very serious subject. Walk a mile in someone shoes before you make light of the situation.

The shoes of someone who suffers from a mental illness… hmm… how about the ones I routinely aim at my husband’s forehead? Do those count?

Next time I even think about making light of my situation I will be sure to stop and realize that I have no way of knowing what it feels like to be me.

From Lynn:

“Meat is murder. Tasty tasty murder” put me over the edge.
You just lost a fan who has been reading you since before
Leta was born. That was not even remotely funny.

Wait, you don’t like my t-shirt? Not even a little bit? Not even a ha, ha, yeah, I can kinda see how overreacting to a t-shirt might even prove its point? Because every time I wear that t-shirt now, I walk up to Jon, point to my chest and say very grimly, “This is not even remotely funny.”

From Robert:

Is this a great country or what? If you can make a living doing what I see on your site I am in awe. what a joke.

Actually, I’ve got a joke. Wanna hear it? So there was this guy, and he was reading blogs at work, while he was supposed to be working, and sending email to those blogs FROM A WORK EMAIL ADDRESS, and get this, he was complaining about someone getting paid to blog when he was getting paid to read that same blog. Wait. That’s not a joke. That’s irony.

From Jeff:

It is possible to beat a virtual dead horse with too many digital dog pics.

What? Me beat a dead horse? Sir would be mistaken.
34C

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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