unrest upon the internetshire

Part the First, wherein trouble is instigated.

Ms. Hiboux adjudicates the “blog-boys of summer SMACKDOWN!“

Part the Second, wherein a challenge is lain.

Mr. Aplenty–

As cemented by Krissa’s latest posting, I’m afraid I have no choice but to officially declare, between the two of us, an Unending, To-the-Death Digital Rivalry of Great Hatred and Much Dislike.

Sadly, several of our mutual digital acquaintances have actually suggested that we would get along dangerously well in real life, and I must admit to regularly reading and immensely enjoying your site.

None the less, the Code of Internet Chivalry (hereby created by its very invocation) dictates that I not let such petty matters sway me from the necessary Great Hatred (and certainly not from the Much Dislike) required by our mutual positions.

Consider yourself thusly informed,

j

Part the Third, wherein the challenge is accepted.

Mr. Aggrandizement,

I cannot tell you how much pleasure this email gives me. It indicates that you feel the need to follow a code of ethics, that you have a sense of honor and human decency. This, of course, means that you are suffused with weakness. As soon as I saw Krissa’s namby pamby “tie vote,” I immediately hired the long out-of-work cast of “Different Strokes” to hunt you down in Hell’s Kitchen and kill you. I did not throw down a gauntlet or provide warning of any sort, as you did below.

The fact that I also enjoy your site (despite its apalling [sic] lack of comment enablement) is, I believe, completely beside the point. The only thing that matters to me is victory.

May the worst man win.

Best regards,
Greg

To be continued?

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the asshole spectrum

Whenever I hear a ‘nice guy’ bemoan the fact that women seem to constantly pass him over for jerks, I can’t help but think he might be overestimating his innocence. Nobody, after all, is a gentleman 100% of the time, just as nobody is 100% bastard. Instead, we men inevitably inhabit the spectrum between those two extremes.

Further, ‘nice guy’ lament to the contrary, women don’t actually prefer men on the asshole end of the spectrum; they don’t even prefer men at the fifty-fifty split. Instead, as careful observation of female friends will quickly reveal, most women look for guys at the 10% asshole, 90% marriage-material mix: someone charming, sweet and wonderful the vast majority of the time, yet with independence, backbone, a handful of unpredictability and a bit of edge.

So take that to heart boys. If booty’s your aim, be nice. But not too nice. Aim for 10% asshole. Or one-up what women say they want and head for the thing their behavior shows they like even better: the 80% nice guy / 20% asshole mix who they alone can tame into the ideal 90/10.

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one degree of separation

There are few exercises in psychology so perversely fascinating as meeting your ex-girlfriends subsequent boyfriends (or, as in at least one case, subsequent girlfriends); it is, inevitably, a wonderful glimpse into the workings of both her mind and your own.

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mail bag

Earlier this week, I received an email from one [name later redacted] that I below reproduce in its entirety:

Josh Newman is an unmitigated knob. What a narcissistic, little poser bitch.

I must admit that, finding the message in my inbox, I suddenly felt oddly flattered. Not only did something about me, a complete stranger, stir up in [name] the desire (or perhaps even the need) to send off such a charming missive, but my online persona apparently irked him sufficiently to even whip out the thesaurus in search of the perfect ‘knob’-preceding word.

Still, warmed as I was by his effort, I must admit that [name]‘s work fell a bit short of my high hate mail standards. I’m lucky enough to receive a piece or two every couple of months, and some of them are really, remarkably, treasurably good. Sure, [name] might lack the biting wit (or perhaps simply the intelligence) to really tear into me in Shakespearean style. But, at the very minimum, he could have at least put some effort into structuring the email properly. I mean, consider how much more effective it would have been if written in the second person and ended with a complimentary closing:

Dear Josh Newman,

You are an unmitigated knob. What a narcissistic, little poser bitch.

Drink bleach and die,

[name]

Sure it’s a hate letter; but it’s still a letter. There’s an etiquette to these things.

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note to self:

After several years of cutting caffeine from your diet, suddenly drinking several cups of strongly brewed coffee will apparently keep you up all night long.

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