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Love From the Comment’s Section (not here, elsewhere)

Every day I like to torture myself over breakfast and scan CNN for the latest world news, home in on a story that is trans or gay related, and scroll down to read all the comments. If you haven’t, I would not recommend it. It’s pretty bad.

Scads have been written about the anonymity of the internet and the ability for one to spew ignorant hatred into the body of human experience without it ever coming back to haunt them. When you pick a handle like “GodLKillU”, it hard to link that to Larry LePew of Dunstan Ave, and he knows that. More so he clearly has nothing much to do except to log on CNN and advance his pure version of the world by taking issue with the story itself, or other people who have commented on it. Oftentimes it seems clear he still isn’t aware of spell checking, the prohibition against using all caps that goes back to the early 90’s, and sounds suspiciously like the crazy cat lady from The Simpsons.

For a while, I was letting this hurt my feelings. This was pure nasty stuff, often backed up by obscure scripture passages or a third grade level knowledge of genetics. “Come on Michelle, a lot of these people are just trolls!” I still don’t know exactly what that is. Someone deliberately acting extra ignorant to make the marginally ignorant look worse? Assholes who really think this? No shit bona fide trolls like the ones who like to give the three billy goats gruff a hard time? I’m not clear, but at some point I started finding these comments amusing. Disturbing if they are real, but as long as Mssr LePew isn’t really going to utilize industrial staples to ensure my birth genitalia remains in the original configuration.

My favorites are the homespun horse sense kind of wisdom the writers seem to think will light a million bulbs. A great one came from a Texassy sounding moniker, complete with phonetically spelled out drawl intended to answer a transgender related post. Word for word, “Whut yew do is take ‘em and say, “Naw stand in front of thet mirror boyah, and drop ya’lls drawers. Ya see that thar boyah? That is whut yew are!” I took ‘that thar’ to mean the person’s unfortunate male genitalia. I like to think this is real, both because it’s funnier that way, and I knew someone in the Air Force who talked exactly like that. His use of what seemed to be a silver plated toilet seat as a belt buckle added to the charm.

After Texassy bon mots and crazy cat lady, I like the bible thumpers who can’t come up with a quote to back them up. “God hates it, it’s in the bible, ‘nuff said!” They are pretty sure anyway, but just can’t point to where at the moment. The mini mad scientists are less enjoyable because they think they know what the sex chromosomes do, but clearly don’t. That actually seems to be most people, so it might be worth advancing the idea of incorporating more genetics in our attempts to educate the public to our condition.

All said and done, yes, I used to get upset reading this crap, but common sense prevailed. It’s a questionable level of commitment to an ideal if you won’t put your name to it. If you can’t sign the note of intent, it is doubtful that you are willing to risk being featured on the evening news for carrying out one of the heinous fantasy actions you like to write about. Even if Hitler came again today, I don’t think we would have another Beer Hall Putsch kicked off in the commentary of a CNN Money interest rate article.

People who do put their name on it are a different story. I do worry about them because they are willing to put their intentions out there, signed, sealed and delivered. Just yesterday I Googled Santorum and it seems he’ll put his name on just about anything. It’s guys like that we have to watch out for.

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