A Momentary Lapse Of Frisson

As some of my followers know, I am not uncritical of my own content, particularly in terms of it reaching beyond my intended audience. (Said audience being: adult women who get off on feeling like misfit toys.) If you’re not part of that beautifully fucked-up group, then my feelings about your readership range from relaxed indifference to active concern.

Up to now, I’ve had two primary policies for dealing with those active concerns:

  1. If you’re under eighteen, absolutely fuck off. I’ll block you if I spot you. Go try being good girls and boys for a few more years, okay? After all, maybe the It Gets Better people are right, and you’ll end up having a relatively uncomplicated and fulfilling sex life.
  2. I squint in mild disapproval at the occasional legal adults who seem a little too stupid to be allowed in the drawer where Mom keeps the sharper, stabbier words. (Remember folks: never run with “cunt”s.) But I didn’t actually do anything about such folks, other than be silently judgy.

I’ve decided to rethink and refine these policies into a single guideline. Going forward, it will be:

  1. If I look at your blog and you’re under 18, or someone who argues without irony that men are some sort of oppressed class, or if you are, in general, kind of a whiny, entitled individual, I’m blocking you. No hard feelings, but I’ll pass on your patronage, thanks. You’re not my audience.