A new record: Aside from the Mighty Stupid Quinn, I have successfully resisted not one but three pompous asses begging for a major smackdown this week.
T'wasn't easy. I read, I fumed, I shut down and went and unpacked something, funneling that negative energy into productive physical labor. Then I jotted down positive stuff about other writers and their books and told my stray kitty story. Not as exciting, maybe, but almost as satisfying as pouring out my disdain for the Enormous Blogging Buttocks out there.
I must again chant my mantra: Everyone is entitled to their opinion, even when:
--it's snotty, inaccurate, manipulative and should please God come back and bite them where it genuinely hurts someday when I can watch.
--they're trying to cram their big corny graceless hoofed untalented Ugly Stepmonster reviewer's foot into the writer's glass slipper.
--their perennially displayed and stroked ego has swelled to the size of Texas, to make up for other things that I guess? never will.
Before anyone assumes things, I'm not talking about any of you guys. Sometimes I'm lured away from the places I love to frequent while link-hunting and end up being choked by the pure pettiness of people that I wouldn't let near me in real life.
How are you handling blog-rage these days?