Saturday, August 20, 2005

U R a Stoopid Head

I came home from work tonight. Ate some grub and then sat down here to do some surfin. The 3 or so forums I usually toss my board into were dead calm. Low Tide. Not a breaker in the bunch. Just the usual anti this, screw that and you're an idiot posters having their regular feeding frenzy after supper. I often jump right in, but my heart just is not in it right now. I am feeling some burn out coming and may have to vacate the boards for some R and R.

I love slapping down the obnoxious and stupid as much as the next guy, but at some point, the dumbasses all seem to spew the same crap. And there are so many of them. Like some suicidal peasant mob brandishing scythes, rakes, and hoes, they pour through the ether asking to be cut down like hay on a hot June day. Fun for awhile, but eventually my fingers can't take poundin out the words to put em down. They just overwhelm me with their stupidity. And end up victorious through the use of sheer numbers.

When the mood for combat is not in me, I will often just sit and lurk. As I happen upon a post that is particurarily inane or vacuous, I will pause, close my eyes and imagine the poster in physical form. For some reason, they most always conjur up as thickly bespectacled, skinny and wearing a plaid shirt with beef stew stains from their last repast dribbled onto a small paunch that is reaching for the edge of their desk. The gleam in their eyes read, "I'm a tough guy, read this you loser". And they manically pound the keys, paying only cursory attention to the actual letters they produce. Each key punch a fist in the gut, a knee in the crotch, or finger in the eye of the guy they are after. They are the dweebs everyone picked on in school. The kids who never caught on to the hip in their corners of the world. The guys always picked last when choosing sandlot teams. But in here, this anonymous void, they become tigers and bad asses. You don't fool with them cuz they's bad motor scooters.

The folks I especially love are the Ao-elites. These people are in love with taking grammatical shortcuts, acting as if it is cool, but really just hiding the fact that they have no writing skills and cannot spell their way out of a paper bag. "U R a Stoopid Head". I read something along those lines and I know to move along. Do not pause. Do not even contemplate understanding, let alone responding. To respond is to enter a comical world where having a clue is useless and making a point not necessary.

At the other end can be found high on their horse, the pontificator, the know it all, the "You are an idiot, only I have true wisdom in all things human or divine", poster who lives to condescend and denigrate. I have been accused of this. I have been guilty of this. I am trying to crank it back a tad. But it is so hard to do when I know how special I am. I tend to call em as I sees em. And all I sees is "Stoopid Heads".

Of Course, I know I am not special. I am not unique. There isn't much I can come up with someone else has not already said more eloquently and succinctly than I. But years of athletic competition have proven that while there is always someone faster than I, there will always be someone slower. The genetically inbred food chain code allows me no alternative but to feed on the the slow and the weak. A slow moving target is better than no target at all. The tricky part is keeping an eye out for the bigger fish while reeling in my own meal.

No comments: